Underneath
by CrazyAni
Summary: After feroscious duel on Mustafar, ObiWan Kenobi and Darth Vader are given a chance to go back and save Anakin. The Force sends them back to the past, but they wake up in each other's bodies...RotS AU
1. Prologue

**Underneath**

The giant spaceship floated in the dark space. The eternal night embraced the ship, and it looked painfully small and insignificant against the pressing power of the night. It drifted alone in midst of the darkness. One more object that was lost to its magnificent power.

The dull clang of his heavy feet echoed loudly in the deserted corridor.

_Thud. Thud. Thud_.

Fabric as dark as night billowed behind him. On the outside, he strode calmly, but deep inside he wanted to run away. From darkness. From himself. From everything. But there was no running away, no escaping.

The sneering darkness would always be with him.

Nothing more.

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

The hall looked empty and lifeless, bathed in the eerie red light. Ominous shadows were creeping from every corner, taunting him. In his past life, he was afraid of the shadows, but the sense of fear had long abandoned him. He didn't fear, he was feared. People were scared at the tiniest glimpse of his black mask, cold chills ran down their spines at the sound of his mechanical breathing, and they nearly fainted whenever they heard the booming of his mechanical voice.

He was feared, but not loved. People followed his orders, but they despised him.

He clenched his fist. It was not a hand of flesh, only a set of wires… He wanted to rip them away with his teeth, to hurt himself. To feel pain. To feel anything beside the cold emptiness.

But he didn't do it.

The Dark Lord paused at the large window. Space lay before him. It was cold and lifeless, yet he couldn't resist its tempting calls. Stars flickered merrily, inviting him to see all their wonders. He had once wanted to see them all, but his old desires had long turned into the ashes.

A transparent image of black mask stared at him. Blank shield with sharp edges, devoid of any trace of humanity. It was the face that haunted people in their most horrible nightmares. That was his reflection now, and for the rest of his life.

He looked at himself, but saw only a machine. Killing, cold and calculating machine. He wanted to scream, but no one would hear him. No one cared for him. No one looked at him and saw the person he had once been.

A boy with curious blue eyes slept deeply beneath the black suit. He slept, he did not die. Because sleeping people might wake up. Sometimes he turned around quickly enough he believed to have caught a glimpse of that boy.

But each time it was only another shadow. One of many to come.

Did he want this boy to wake up? Did he want to see his blue eyes again? The boy would be revolted at the things he had done. The Dark Lord did not want to see this boy ever again.

The boy who wanted to bring so much good to the galaxy… He had set everything only to lose it all. People he loved. His soul. His body. His freedom.

There was nothing left, only memories.

Intangible, distant memories. If he closed his eyes tightly enough, he could still feel wet, emerald grass under his bare feet. He could still feel gentle kisses of the sun on his skin. He could still remember a soft breeze of wind dishevelling his hair. He could still see her genuine smile, her melodic laughter.

His burned lips still stretched into shadow of smile at the memory of her vain attempts to smooth his hair. If he tried hard enough, he could still hear the phantom voice whispering "_I love you"_ in his ear.

These were words he would never hear again. The coldness in him hissed that he didn't need it, but at this moment he didn't believe it.

The woman he loved beyond anything drifted into eternal sleep, and now her soul danced on the ever-green meadows, where they had fallen in love with each other.

A single tear welled up in his eyes. He gritted his teeth to stop it from falling, but it run down his scarred cheek nonetheless. He was the absolute darkness personified, he didn't cry…

But the salty feeling on his lips continued to taunt him. Another tear formed in the corners of his eyes…What colour did his eyes have? Was it azure blue or savage yellow?

He didn't want to know it. He didn't want to know what she would think of the creature he had become. Would she look at him with contempt and say that she didn't love him any longer? Or would she run away from him screaming to the other side of the galaxy?

He could never find out. His angel was dead, and nothing could bring her back. Nothing could bring back his child either. Was it a girl, as beautiful as her mother? Or was she right that it had been a boy?

Not even his new powers could make a change.

_Thud. Thud. Thud_.

The echo of his heavy metallic feet cringed fearfully in the deserted corridor, shy gleams of feeble light avoiding him in blind panic. Everything that would come in touch in him withered and died. It had always been like this, but only now did he realise it.

_Thud. Thud. Thud_.

No escaping, no running away, because it was impossible… He couldn't flee the coldness of his suit, he couldn't abandon the darkness within him. He couldn't save himself from the eternal cold.

The galaxy lied at his feet.

He had ultimate power.

He had become the true Hero With No Fear.

He was Darth Vader, the Dark Lord.

He was always alone.

He was always cold. It was a feeling he had never known before. In the days before darkness, he felt warm. Either on Tatooine with his mother, or with his wife on Coruscant, or … with his former Master during the missions. It was not the heat of the sun that warmed him, it was a glow of mutual love.

The cold spread its icy claws on him ever since he was engulfed in flames on Mustafar. Even as hungry lava of the volcano planet ate at his body, he had felt cold. Empty. Bitter.

Obi-Wan. The name left a sour after-taste in his mouth.

Obi-Wan. His former Master…his brother…his killer.

Vader clenched his right fist, the only reminder of his old life.

In this momentary moment of weakness, he ached to go see Obi-Wan again. Not to pay for what he had done to him, but just to be with him.

Like in the old days. But these old days sunk into nothingness.

The wind moaned restlessly outside, throwing black sand at the window of his humble hut. Night fell down on the desert planet. A black, impenetrable shroud of darkness.

He moved closer to the fire, rubbing his hands to warm them, but it didn't work. It was cold.

It was not the physical cold that tortured him. He had been a Jedi once, and he could easily adjust to all conditions. It was the cold emptiness in his soul that choked him.

A small fire burnt merrily in the small hut. But Obi-Wan hated fire. Whenever he looked at flames, he remembered the savage lava rivers on Mustafar and the ferocious duel with the one he loved as a brother.

His life was a living nightmare, and there was no waking up from it, no escaping. Only death…He would cease to exist after it and join all who died at the hand of his brother.

But he was already dead. The crumpled shell of the ancient man that sat by the fire held no life in it, no joy. Gone was the sparkle from his grey eyes, and the smile was forever wiped away by the darkness. He was swallowed and eaten by it. He had nothing more left, only memories.

Memories of his old Master Qui-Gon… Memories of the calm serenity of the Temple. But the giant halls were turned into burning ruins, and the light of the Force burned with it. At times, Obi-Wan hated himself for his ability to sense the Force, to see the darkness polluting it. He cursed himself for hearing phantom screams of pain of people that were dying or of those that had already died.

His dried lips stretched into a bitter smile. People thought that he was a crazy old hermit, and he started to believe them. What was he doing the entire time? Waiting. Only waiting.

But what was he waiting for? That some of his friend would return? But they all were dead…

Deep inside, he wanted for _him _to seek him out. He ached to see his blue eyes again, to see him smile, even to let him tease him.

But his best friend was dead. Or, he was worse than dead.

The last memory he had of him was a reflection of lava in his cruel yellow eyes. And then he stroked him down…After that everything became a blur, a nightmare in a nightmare.

Rivers of fire…the stench of burning flesh…cry of hatred….an inhuman yell of pain of the man who was burning alive.

And Obi-Wan died with him.

Who was sitting in the hut, listening to the drawn-our howls of the wind? It was just an empty shell, a shadow of the mighty man he had once been.

Loneliness was his only companion. And there was also a tiny flicker of hope out there, over the dune sea. But the hope was so feeble that he didn't notice that it was here. His wounds were too deep, too fresh to be able to see the future with bright eyes.

The future was hidden somewhere over the ocean of sand, as yellow and harsh as the endless desert. The past seemed like a sweet dream to him, and at times he couldn't believe that once there was no sand, no loneliness, no cold. But the past sunk into nothingness, and his present was only a sand.

And he craved for it to disappear. Jedi never thought of what-ifs, they lived in present. But there was no life on Tatooine, only a miserable imitation if it. There could be no life without him.

Besides, he wasn't a Jedi any longer.

But he pleaded to the Force nonetheless to give him a chance to change the things even if he knew that it was impossible.

He ached to see Anakin again, just to talk to him like in the old days.

But old days disappeared, burnt out by the lava and wiped out by the sand.

There was an explosion in the Force. A blinding flash of light erupted somewhere beyond and the silver threads of reality broke.

A twister appeared out of nowhere. Another flash of light, and two figures were sucked into it – one looking like a black hybrid between a machine and a man, another a lustreless hermit.

A blur of colours…mad twisting and silent screams of two men…and then everything became still.

Anakin woke up, gasping for air. The sheets were covered in sweat, and his breathing was ragged.

Images of his nightmare flashed in his mind.

Black mask…cold, mechanical breathing…eternal cold and blackness of space.

He sat up and rested his face in his hands. What did it mean? Was it another vision, another warning? Would something happen to him? But it was not important as long as Padmé wouldn't die in childbirth.

Lost in thought, he scratched his chin with his right hand. It felt different…

He looked down at his hand. It was flesh, not his spider-like prosthesis.

A feeling of deja-vu flooded over him, and Anakin touched his chin again. He felt not a smooth skin, but harsh hair.

A beard… He didn't have a beard…

Obi-Wan opened his eyes. The comfortable feeling of silky sheet felt strange after the harsh material of his bed on Tatooine.

He sat up in his bed, too dizzy to take the surrounding in. What happened? The last thing he remembered was aching for Anakin, then….twisting and stretching…blur of colours.

He was not on Tatooine any longer, he was sure about it. Did the Force grant his desire?

He run his hands through his hair. The hair felt soft and wavy under his fingers, and the a strange feeling of cold metal against the skin on his head screamed at him.

His right hand was not real, it was a prosthesis…

Something stirred at his right. Too shocked to draw any conclusions, Obi-Wan just glanced at his right.

A woman was sleeping peacefully next to him, her magnificent hair sprawled out on the pillow.

It was Padmé.

He was lying in the bed next to Padmé…


	2. He is Me

**A/N: **Good evening!

With a long delay, I've finally arrived with the next instalment of "Underneath". Unfortunately, I won't be able to update soon – I'm having exams, and my writing time is cut practically to null. But I won't abandon this story, I promise!

Another bad news – this chapter hasn't been beta-read yet – apparently, my wonderful beta Ani-maniac494 is having some troubles, and she hasn't sent ne the chapters back yet. I'll post the beta-ed version of the chapter as soon as Maniac sends it back to me. 

Enjoy!

**Chapter One**

**He is me**

It was pitch dark; only lights of occasional speeders and neon glows of the night city lit the apartment. On shaking feet, Obi-Wan got up and headed to a mirror. He couldn't believe in what had happened, he refused to believe in it…

A young man with dishevelled blonde hair stared at him bewilderedly, his brilliant blue eyes widened in silent shock. Obi-Wan was looking at Anakin.

He _was_ Anakin.

The complete stillness ruled over the room, and Obi-Wan could hear his heart – Anakin's heart – pounding wildly in his chest. Overwhelmed by conflicting emotions, he fell on his knees, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. A hazy reflection of his brother stared at him from the mirror – the one of a young and healthy man.

Nothing had happened yet.

He hadn't asked Anakin to betray his "friend" yet.

Padmé was still alive, smiling peacefully in her sleep.

Darth Vader didn't exist yet.

He hadn't left his brother burn to death yet …

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. The air smelled fresh and alive. The was no sand, no choking darkness, no voices screaming in pain, no phantom whispers of passed Jedi…He felt the Force embracing him in a familiar gentle manner, but the connection was much intenser than before. It was as if he were a tiny glowing particle carried by the magnificent stream. He could hear whispers of the wind, listen to the rustling of the leaves in the forest far away, he could see the world around him shimmering in all colours of the rainbow.

He was in Chosen One's body, and he wasn't merely a Force-sensitive being, he was a part of the Force…

A gentle stirring caught his attention.

_Padmé._

Obi-Wan wasn't ready yet to face her, nor could he act like Anakin in front of her. What if she … wanted to _kiss_ him?

Feeling slight panic overtaking him at this thought, Obi-Wan hurried to pick up parts of Anakin's clothing, scattered all over the floor.

He needed to find Anakin, and he had a very shrewd idea where he could be.

--------------

Obi-Wan entered the code into his quarters in the Jedi Temple. Immediately, the door moved aside, inviting him in. The last time was in his quarters had been right before his Utapau mission, when he had talked to Anakin for the last time…If he had only known then-

Obi-Wan shook his head, brushing the sad thoughts off, and stepped over the threshold.

Anakin lay sprawled on the bed, his eyes shut tightly, his lips muttering something Obi-Wan couldn't comprehend. Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan approached, feeling of guilt twisting his stomach as images of his brother's hatred-filled eyes pierced his mind. Would Anakin want to avenge him after what had happened between them?

"Anakin," Obi-Wan called softly, shaking his shoulder. It was strange seeing himself from the side.

Anakin didn't show any reaction, but his muttering intensified. Obi-Wan leaned closer, and tried again. Something was wrong…

"Anakin, wake up!"

The bearded man turned aside, and, pulling the pillow over his head, continued muttering something that sounded like _I'm dreaming, this is a nightmare, this is only a nightmare…_

Maybe, it was only a dream. Maybe, he would wake up and find himself in his dusty hut again.

With a sigh, Obi-Wan yanked the pillow away from his grip and made Anakin – himself – look at him. His eyelids were closed tightly, something that both relieved and scared Obi-Wan. What was hiding behind those closed eyes? Was it venomous yellow, full of inhuman hatred – the gaze would haunt Obi-Wan for the rest of his life?

"This is not a nightmare," he said firmly. "Anakin, we need to talk."

But what did they have to talk about? What would he say to his friend? He couldn't merely say something like: "Anakin, I'm sorry for mutilating you and hiding your children from you. It was for your best."

The closed eyes flattered open, and familiar grey eyes stared in him in shock. Grey, not yellow…

"Obi-Wan?" Anakin choked out, scratching his chin and dishevelling the beard.

Involuntarily, Obi-Wan cringed and gripped him by the arms, taking them away from the beard. "Yes, this is me," he said quietly.

"Obi-Wan?" Anakin repeated incredulously, his eyes flaring up with anger. Was it because he remembered? Because he hated him now? He had a good reason for it…

"Anakin, do you rem-"

"Obi-Wan, get out of my body!" Anakin barked loudly.

Slightly stunned, Obi-Wan stared blankly at him. A random thought that his beard needed combing crossed his mind. "What?" he asked, taken aback.

"Get out of my body," Anakin repeated slowly, his face swelling with anger.

Obi-Wan chuckled unhappily. "I'd love to," he said truthfully. "But I don't know how."

Anakin took a deep, calming breath and rested his face in his hands. "I'm sorry, Master," he said in a steadier voice. "Of course, it's not your doing."

_Master_…Anakin called him _Master_…

"Anakin, what do you remember?" Obi-Wan asked, his voice trembling.

Anakin shrugged. "Not much," he said off-handily. "I had a weird nightmare, then I woke up like this."

_Doesn't he remember?_

"What kind of nightmare?" Obi-Wan breathed out, a tiny flicker of hope blossoming in his heart.

"There are just incoherent flashes of it," Anakin said vaguely. "A horrible black-suited man, more machine than a man. A feeling of cold that crept under my skin, into the bones…"

He shuddered and run his hands through his hair. "It's good that it was only a dream."

_No, Anakin, it wasn't a dream_, Obi-Wan thought sadly. _You saw your future._

"Sometimes, dreams can be only dreams," Obi-Wan said, toying with the blanket absent-mindedly with his right hand. It didn't obey him as a real hand would have.

Grey eyes glittered oddly, but no reply came.

"What should we do about our situation?" Anakin asked quietly. "As far as I know, nothing similar had ever happened yet. The Council would start investigating it, and they might take us into custody-"

His voice trailed away, and he looked aside. Obi-Wan sensed waves of cold fear emanating from him through the Force. What did Anakin fear so much? It wasn't a custody interrogation; it was something much bigger he was afraid of…

"I think we should pretend being each other for a while until we're able to switch back," Obi-Wan suggested. He was also worried what the Council's reaction would be if they found out that Anakin would become a Sith and slaughter nearly the whole Order. They might do something that would push Anakin to that path again. Obi-Wan couldn't let it happen, simply because he couldn't lose Anakin two times in a row.

"Today you'll join the Council, Anakin Skywalker," Anakin said, corners of his mouth twitching in a smile.

"Are you proud of your former apprentice, Master Kenobi?" Obi-Wan asked apprehensively, the pained look on Anakin's face after he had been asked to spy on Palpatine, swimming in his mind.

Anakin's gaze was opaque. "Are you proud of yourself, Knight Skywalker?"

Obi-Wan averted his eyes. Heavy, uncomfortable silence hung between them. It was so still that Obi-Wan could hear the noises of the complicated mechanisms of the prosthesis. The arm felt so heavy, so foreign, so … hostile. And he condemned Anakin to living for the rest of his life in that horrible suit, with no flesh limbs… It was not living, it was existing. Whose life was more broken after Mustafar? Obi-Wan had lost only his sanity, but Anakin had lost everything – his love, his child, his body and his soul. And it was his fault.

"Padmé must know," a quiet voice pierced through the silence.

"Why?" Obi-Wan asked evenly, probing the ground. "You're just acquaintances. Why should she know?"

_Will he tell me? _

Anakin threw him a dirty look. "You woke up next to her. You should have figured out that we are more than just friends."

Obi-Wan kept silent.

"Padmé is my wife," Anakin said coolly. "We have been married for three years. And now she's pregnant with my child."

_Wife? _Obi-Wan drew a ragged breath, rubbing his face with his gloved hand. Anakin was married. He had always known that there was more to Anakin's and Padmé's relationship than met the eye, and her pregnancy was a proof. Waking up next to her only hours ago was another insight into their relationship, a more vivid one than Obi-Wan would have wanted. But he could have never expected that the two of them were involved so seriously. Marriage was a sacred bond; it was a tie that connected two people for all eternity, something that went against all principles of the Code.

_Anakin is a married man_. It seemed only months ago when a little boy with curious blue eyes came running into his apartment because he had seen rain for the first time. Obi-Wan still remembered the little boy who gazed awe-struck at the magnificent halls of the Jedi Temple. Where was this boy now? He grew up, lost his innocence and died…

"I wouldn't be too happy if you acted in front of her as though you were me," Anakin continued.

"Wouldn't want to," Obi-Wan muttered vaguely, snapping to the present.

The sky outside started to colour in streaks of pale blue, and the first shy sun rays came out. The morning has come, and the beginning of their troubles with it.

"We have to get ready for the meeting," Obi-Wan said earnestly, springing to his feet. Despite the dire situation, he felt his body surging with adrenaline so violently that Obi-Wan was afraid that he would burst.

Grudgingly, Anakin climbed out of the bed, holding his back – a gesture Obi-Wan was too familiar with.

"Getting old, Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked gleefully, thinking of all times when Anakin teased him about his age.

"Just wait till I get my body back," Anakin grumbled darkly, glancing up at him.

Obi-Wan sniggered softly and patted Anakin on his head. It felt good be finally able to look down at his former Padawan, even if they had to switch bodies for it.

"Just wait," Anakin repeated menacingly, sending a famous Skywalker threatening glare at him. It didn't work in his new body.

"Get ready for the session," Obi-Wan said cheerfully, heading for the exit. Anakin scowled at him, but went to the drawer.

A warm, long-forgotten feeling spread in Obi-Wan. It was not often that Obi-Wan won a teasing match against his former Padawan, and days spent at Tatooine made the distant memories turn into transparent dreams. Then a thought crossed his mind, making him freeze at the spot with panic.

"Anakin, please…don't shave off the beard," Obi-Wan muttered, already at the door step.

A familiar bubbling laughter was the only response to his request. Obi-Wan had a very bad feeling about it…


	3. Not a Master

**Chapter Two**

**Not a Master**

The Temple halls were filled with serenity, and the Force swirled gently all around as before the dark times, while Anakin and Obi-Wan stood before the closed doors to the Council Chambers. Two Padawans walked past them, enveloped in conversation; two Jedi Masters made their way from the training halls, smiling and glittering with sweat. There were no clouds of smoke, no fire, no clones shooting – only the serene embrace of the Force.

Obi-Wan sighed, watching the two Padawans talk. They had no idea yet what would happen to all of them in only a couple of weeks. The veil of the Force that

flowed through the Temple would scream in excruciating pain, the fountains would turn red with blood, and there would be bodies everywhere. He clenched his fist – the arm that would kill innocent children…

"You'll get used to the prosthesis, Master," Anakin said softly, watching him moving his arm.

"I hope I won't have to," Obi-Wan muttered vaguely. Anakin had no idea what was on his mind…And Obi-Wan suspected that if he told his friend of the horrible deeds he would commit in the future, Anakin would only grow angry. This Anakin was still the brother he had known and loved, with no trace of darkness in his aura yet. Or had the event that would cause his transformation already occured?

"Try not to move your right arm too much," Anakin said seriously. "It creates the impression as that is new to you – it looks suspicious."

Obi-Wan stopped fidgeting with his right arm and dropped it to his side quickly. He scrutinized Anakin, frowning slightly. To his immense relief, Anakin hadn't shaved the beard, and he had even had the decency to comb it. All and all, his former Padawan looked dignified and serene, and on the outside, he could have fooled the Council. But…

The doors slid aside, and they were invited to enter.

"Anakin, stay calm no matter what happens," Obi-Wan said under his breath, thinking about Anakin's outburst the last time around. "Try to speak as little as possible. In fact, don't speak _at all._"

Anakin glared at him, but kept silent. They entered the chambers, and Anakin went to take Obi-Wan's chair; Obi-Wan remained standing in the middle.

The sky outside was darkened by clouds, and a feeble tinge of sun appeared only to be swallowed by the approaching storm. Suddenly, Obi-Wan felt very uneasy, standing in the middle, pierced by the intense stares of all the Council members.

"Anakin Skywalker, we have approved your appointment to the Council as the Chancellor's personal representative," Mace Windu said calmly, entwining his long fingers.

"I will do my best to uphold the principles of the Jedi Order," Obi-Wan said, inclining his head. Anakin's gaze was opaque.

Yoda frowned slightly. "Allow this appointment lightly, the Council does not. Disturbing is this move by Chancellor Palpatine."

Of course, it was disturbing. Palpatine had planned it perfectly; it was the deciding strike to alienate Anakin even further from the Order. Obi-Wan started to feel even more uncomfortable under the vigilant stares of the Council members.

_Distrust_.

It was reflected clearly in their eyes, and their Force signatures emanated it with the glow of a supernova. No one had ever looked at him as if they expected him to explode at any moment. The sensation was bitter and even more nauseating because Obi-Wan knew that they had all reasons not to trust Anakin…

"I understand," Obi-Wan said flatly, implying a bow.

The harshness of their stares only intensified. Suddenly, Obi-Wan felt small and unimportant, like a bug that could be squashed easily, surrounded by these twelve mighty Jed. He was only a Padawan in their eyes, a little child that enjoyed playing the part of a grown-up, but needed to be shown his place.

_The Jedi are right about Anakin, you agreed with them._

However, this thought didn't help him feel more comfortable. Mace Windu peered at him with a beady eyes.

"You are on this Council, but we do not grant you the rank of Master."

_He's right_. Who in their right mind would make Anakin a Master?

Obi-Wan wanted to incline his head obediently, but his gaze fell on Anakin, who looked furious.

_You are Anakin. _

_Anakin would be angry._

_He threw a … tantrum last time._

Obi-Wan raised his head. "What?" he asked incredulously. The Jedi tensed.

Angry…he should feel angry. But didn't, he had no reason to. It was only fair that someone with Anakin's lack of self-control wouldn't be granted the rank of a Master. Out of corner of his eye, Obi-Wan saw Anakin's face swelling with anger.

_He might make them suspicious._

"This is outrageous, it's … unfair!" Obi-Wan yelled, ignoring the Master's shocked glances. A twinge of guilt stirred in him. He clearly wasn't saving Anakin's reputation…

Angry…He had to be angry, not feel guilty.

"This is unheard of!" Obi-Wan continued to yell in indignation. "How can you be on the Council, but not be a Master?"

"Take your seat, young Skywalker," Mace Windu interrupted evenly, his voice as hard as steel.

_The show is over._

"Forgive me, Master," Obi-Wan said peacefully, feeling satisfied with himself. Pretending not to notice Anakin's astonished glare, he went to take the empty seat.

"We have surveyed all systems in the Republic, and have found no sign of General Grievous," Ki-Adi-Mundi said after a short pause.

Yoda cast Anakin a long, unreadable look. "Hiding in the Outer Rim, Grievous is. The outlying systems, you must sweep. What your opinion about this is, Master Kenobi?"

Obi-Wan froze in his seat. Anakin leaned back casually. "It may take some time…and we do not have that many ships to spare," he said calmly, scratching his chin. It looked as if he had restrained himself as hard as he could not from glancing at Obi-Wan.

Very cautiously, Obi-Wan reached into the Force and probed Anakin's mind only to find perfect mental shields. Feeling the intrusion, Anakin cast him an irritated glance, and Obi-Wan pulled back immediately.

"We cannot take the ships from the front line," Mace Windu's low voice broke the train of Obi-Wan's thoughts.

"And we can't afford to allow the droid army to regroup," Obi-Wan said anxiously, unable to stop himself. He could feel the many eyes watching him, some apprehensively, some with disapproval.

"True," Ki-Adi-Mundi said, nodding curtly. "The Wookies are in danger of the droid attack. It's a system we can't afford to lose."

"Master Kenobi, you know this system well," Mace Windu said to Anakin. "It would take you little time to drive the droids off that planet."

Anakin tensed visibly. Obviously, he didn't want to leave Coruscant, Obi-Wan could see that. But what was so important? It wasn't just the fact that he would miss Padmé, there was something else…

"Go, I shall," Yoda said softly, tearing his gaze away from Anakin. "Good relations with Wookies, I have. Needed on Coruscant, Master Kenobi is."

Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably. It was only their first day of acting, and they were already having trouble. How long would they be able to keep it up?

"It's settled then," Mace Windu said calmly. "May the Force be with us all."

Obi-Wan didn't like the look Master Yoda he gave him as he left the Council chambers.

Once they were outside, Anakin rounded on him.

"What made you act that little outburst?" he hissed angrily. "The Council distrusts me enough without your help."

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrow, looking down at his former Padawan. "Wouldn't you have reacted the same way?"

"Of course not," he said defiantly. "But," he murmured, slightly put off by Obi-Wan's words, "I did feel outraged that I wasn't granted the rank of the Master while being put on the Council. Why did they do that?"

Obi-Wan sighed, feeling the numb weariness he experienced on Tatooine, returning to his bones. Should he tell his brother that he was being asked to spy on the man he held as a friend? It would shake his trust in the Jedi and make him follow a dark path for the second time. But if he didn't, Anakin would find out anyway from the other Masters, for he would have to pretend to beMaster Kenobi when Obi-Wan wasn't around.

"Anakin, listen," he said heavily. "I didn't want to put you in this situation. I've always been on your side, and I always will be."

_Even when I'm forced to do what I must.._.

Anakin frowned suspiciously. "What situation?"

Obi-Wan pursed his lips and looked around. Except for two Padawans chatting in the far corner, they were alone. "The Council wants you to report on all of the Chancellor's dealings. They want to know what he's up to," he said darkly.

Anakin's face paled. "That's treason," he said in a choked voice. "I can't spy on the Chancellor, he's my friend!"

"You won't have to. It's my job now," Obi-Wan said with a small, rueful smile.

"He's a good man," Anakin said angrily, his voice rising with each word. "Why does the Council want you to spy on him!"

If the situation wasn't so dire, Obi-Wan would have laughed – it was a sight that the Temple walls had never seen before: Anakin Skywalker was calm, and Master Kenobi, The Negotiator, was venting, red in face.

"Because something is out of place," Obi-Wan said quietly. If he told Anakin that the Chancellor was a Sith Lord, he wouldn't believe him…

"What is out of place, Master?" Anakin yelled. The two Padawans walked hastily past him, one of them murmuring something that sounded like, '_These two spend too much time with each other'_, under his breath.

"Is it out of place that the Chancellor is doing what is right for the Republic? That he's trying to stop the war? Or that you're now forced to do the dirty task that has been appointed to me?"

Obi-Wan just shook his head wearily. He shouldn't have told him that…and now he was reliving one of the worst moments of his life again, one that had kept haunting him in his dusty hut in the sea of vast desert.

_Anakin, why don't you remember anything that happened to you the first time around?_

"It's only for the best of us all," Obi-Wan said, trying to believe his own words.

"Don't, Obi-Wan," Anakin interrupted him, sounding as tired as Obi-Wan felt. "It's your task now, and I don't want to talk about it. It's sickening."

He could only agree with his friend. Then a stab of worry pierced him. How was he supposed to act like Anakin in front of Palpatine? He didn't know anything about their conversations, nor would he be able to mask his Force signature from the Sith Lord. It was a miracle that they managed to fool the entire Jedi Council, but it had only been the first time their ruse was required…

Anakin took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. "I need to see Padmé," he murmured. "And you're coming with me."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out. Defeated, he just nodded shortly and followed Anakin.

--------------------

Half an hour later, Obi-Wan sat alone in Padmé's guestroom, waiting for the Senator to return. Anakin had received a comm call from Ki-Adi Mundi concerning possible measures against the droid army, and had therefore had to leave to deal with the matter. Obi-Wan wasn't worried about this short conversation – Anakin was a capable warrior, and his knowledge of the current situation was more than enough to fool a hologram of the Council member. He was far more worried about himself.

The rustling of fabric reached his ears, and Obi-Wan sprang up, facing Padmé. Not yet the Padmé that was dying from a broken heart as he last remembered her…a happy and cheerful woman was standing before him.

"Senator Amidala," he said awkwardly, watching the polite mask of Padmé's face changing into an expression of utter delight as she saw her guest. "There is something you should kn-"

But his words died in his throat as Padmé launched herself at him and threw her arms around his neck. Feeling very uncomfortable, Obi-Wan hugged her back.

"Oh, Ani, where have you been?" she murmured into his chest. "I was so worried about you. You left and didn't tell me anything!"

She clutched his tunic even tighter as though she wanted to melt with him, giving a slightly strangled noise that sounded like a sob. Obi-Wan felt panic rising in him. He wasn't good at comforting women, especially not pregnant women…

"I went for a walk," Obi-Wan said in a what he hoped to be casual tone. "I didn't want to wake you."

Well, it was truth. From a certain point of view.

To Obi-Wan's relief, Padmé pulled away. "Why didn't you leave me a note if you couldn't come back? We were so worried."

"We?" Obi-Wan asked, bewildered. "Who are _we_?"

_Is Anakin hiding something else?_

Padmé hit his arm playfully and smiled. "Me and the baby, Ani."

"Oh... of course," Obi-Wan answered, resisting the urge to slap himself. "I suppose I am just not used to it yet." _I don't think I'll ever be used to it,_ Obi-Wan thought dryly, watching Padmé smile at him again.

Padmé stroked his cheek. "You will get used to it," she said softly. "You'll have your whole life to get used to it."

His growing discomfort mixing with returning feelings of guilt, Obi-Wan cleared his throat. "There is something I have to tell you," he began, but Padmé silenced him with her finger.

"I don't want to talk about politics now," she said quietly, her fingers playing with the golden locks of his hair. Looking deeply into his eyes, she smiled oddly, and Obi-Wan's heart raced faster. He had never seen Padmé smile like that before – it was a seductive smile, the smile of a woman who-

"You don't have to be at the Temple right now, and Obi-Wan is not here," she whispered, pulling him closer; a bit too close for comfort.

"Obi-Wan is closer than you think," he protested uneasily, trying to back away from her. _You have no idea how much closer._

Padme frowned. "Do you sense him?" she asked cautiously, her eyes glancing at the door.

"No," Obi-Wan answered weakly, "but-"

"Then don't worry, Ani," Padmé smiled. "Let's just enjoy the time we have together." She moved closer, clearly wanting to kiss him. Obi-Wan hastily stepped back, moving around the sofa and evading her embrace, but doubting the couch between them would be enough to deter her.

"Padmé," he tried again, "You need to know, I'm not... "

Before Obi-Wan could explain, Padmé moved to him and put her hand on his cheek, her gaze worried. "What is it, Anakin? Tell me, and maybe I can help." She bent forward as though to kiss him again, and Obi-Wan's eyes grew wide.

"I'm not Anakin!" he yelled, feeling panicked as her lips neared. She paused.

"What?" she asked in confusion.

"I'm not Anakin, Padmé, I'm Obi-Wan. Anakin and I somehow switched bodies last night. That's why you woke up alone."

Padmé stared at him blankly, then erupted into bubbling laughter that resembled Anakin's too much. "Ani, you're so funny!" she managed to say between her fits of laughter. Obi-Wan watched her helplessly, his mind racing to the things she might want to do when her laughter would subside.

_Anakin, where in blazes are you?_

"Don't forget to breathe between the fits or you'll get hiccups," a voice said from the doorway. Anakin came into the room, looking as if he had to refrain from laughing out loud. "You always do when I tickle you too long."

Padmé's laughter died off immediately. "What?" she asked, staring at Anakin in shock. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"No, it's not a joke," Anakin said seriously, though the corners of his mouth twitched in a slight smile.

Padmé turned to Obi-Wan, her eyes huge. "Ani, I swear to you, Obi-Wan and I are just friends!" she exclaimed, looking panic-stricken.

"I know that we are," Obi-Wan said calmly, fighting against a broad grin that wanted to spread over his face. Padmé seized his hand, her mouth slightly opened, but now words came out.

Anakin came closer, all shadows of smile gone from his face. "He's telling the truth, Padmé," he said quietly, the dreamy, far-away look that Obi-Wan had caught glimpses of throughout their missions, shining in his eyes.

Padmé shook her head, still in shock. "Both of you have gone insane," she whispered incredulously.

"Has Anakin ever been sane?" Obi-Wan asked, chuckling slightly.

Anakin glared at him, but said nothing. Padmé's lips quivered as she glanced between them, trying to figure out what was happening.

"Senator Amidala," Obi-Wan said softly. Padmé faced him almost desperately, as if hoping that he would ease her confusion. She believed that he was Anakin…the first person she would seek comfort from…the rational, mature Padmé was seeking shelter from his reckless former Padawan…

"I've been trying to tell you, but you wouldn't listen. I'm not Anakin. I'm Obi-Wan trapped in his body."

Padmé's enormous brown eyes watched him in silent shock.

"Do you remember the day when we got married?" a quiet voice asked. Anakin walked to Padmé and touched her shoulder. "I tried looking for you, searching the whole house, afraid that you changed your mind, but you had simply locked yourself in your room because you thought it was unlucky for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony."

Very slowly, Padmé turned around and stared at Anakin, her mouth wide agape.

"Then you showed up, and you were the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. The priest held the ritual, but we didn't hear a single word of what he said; we were too mesmerised by each other. After the ceremony, we swam across the river, to the green island, and spent our first night together there," Anakin said, playing with Padmé's hair. She gasped, covering her mouth with her hands.

"I was supposed to leave by dawn, but I couldn't," Anakin continued. He chuckled softly. Padmé continued to watch him. "I tried to fix your hair, but my attempt ended in disaster. But you said that it was your favourite hair style yet. When we talked over holo several days after that, you wore your hair the same way I'd fixed it that day."

A single tear ran down Padmé's cheek as she came closer, looking deeply into Anakin's eyes. He stared back at her with a look Obi-Wan had never seen him wear before – it was a look of slight sadness, yet his eyes shone brightly at the same time…Eyes that belonged to a mature person who had nothing in common with the Anakin Obi-Wan knew…

"Ani," Padmé whispered barely audible, reaching for his cheek and stroking it gently. "It's you…The eyes…these are _your_ eyes…"

Anakin didn't say anything, he merely smiled. Giving a quiet sob, Padmé flung herself into his arms, and he embraced her tightly in return.

"It's really you…it doesn't matter what you look like, as long it's you on the inside-"

Obi-Wan turned aside, sensing that he was intruding upon something very private. Anyway, it would be better for him to leave before they remembered that he was in the room.

"Master Kenobi," Padmé's voice called to him when he was already by the door. He turned around. "I'm sorry for … treating you like Anakin when you came."

"That's alright," Obi-Wan said truthfully. "You didn't know."

He nodded at the couple and made his way to the exit when a thought crossed his mind.

"Anakin," he called, turning around for a second time. Anakin and Padmé broke apart and turned to him. It was strange seeing _himself_ kiss the Senator…

"Please, behave," he said, feeling a blush colouring his cheeks. "You may not have kept your vows, Anakin...but I have, and if we switch back over night, I don't fancy waking up next to Padmé again."

Anakin grinned.

"And Padmé," he said, feeling even more embarrassed. "Please, make sure he doesn't shave off the beard."

Padmé laughed, her eyes twinkling with a spark of mischief that almost envied Anakin's.

"Don't worry, Master Kenobi," she said, a grin playing on her features. "I've always wanted to kiss a bearded man."

Obi-Wan felt himself pale and Anakin and Padmé both laughed.

"We'll be good Obi-Wan," Padmé promised, smiling.

The mischievous sparkle was still there and Obi-Wan eyed her for a moment, but finally turned and hurried away from the apartment. Behind him, he heard a protest coming from Anakin's direction and female laughter. Pleading with the Force to switch them back as soon as possible, Obi-Wan climbed into the speeder and set a course for the Temple. There were things he needed to prepare if he wanted to face Palpatine in Anakin's body…


	4. A New World

**A/N: **I'm terribly sorry for my lack of updates on this story! I've been busy, and college finals certainly aren't the thing I'm excited about…I still have a couple of exams to pass, but it won't take much longer. I hope to be able to update on a more frequent rate!

Thank you so much for reading, and for your feedback! If it hadn't been for your reviews, I'd long have abandoned this story!

Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter Three**

**A New World**

The Force swirled in gentle currents around Obi-Wan as he tried to relax in the meditation chambers. It was incredible how much stronger the Force was with Anakin. The world around him shimmered in all colours of the rainbow, and he could nearly see each sun ray reflecting off each tiny dust particle. Letting his conscious float in the Force waters, Obi-Wan could see the tinkering lights of every single little being in the galaxy, some shining brighter than the others. The Force enhanced his hearing, and he could hear the conversations held in the chambers above him. The Force gave him abilities to understand language of the wind, hear to the soft splattering of the rain, communicate with the sun rays…He just had to try hard enough.

Obi-Wan felt a slight pang of envy clutching him – Anakin could see the world in all its beauty, his enormous Force reserves giving him the ability to enjoy its indescribable magnificence… It was not the watered-down vision that Obi-Wan had known for his entire life. He had had no idea how beautiful the universe was, how many mysteries there were still to unravel. He wondered why Anakin had never told him about it, but it was as impossible as describing the colours to a blind person.

A shadow touched the surface of the glowing ocean, and Obi-Wan remembered that he had a meeting with the Chancellor scheduled for the evening. How was he supposed to fool the Sith Lord who had known Anakin like no one else?

_Memories._

He needed Anakin's memories. They were trapped somewhere in his body. He just had to find them…

Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan joined the golden currents of the Force, diving deep into the glowing waters to find what he was searching for. Layer after layer opened up to him as he traveled into the deepest recesses of Anakin's mind.

_He was rummaging through the scattered droid parts in the backyard, hoping to find details for a gadget that would remove the transmitter that was implanted deep in their bodies…Then they would be free…and he would also free all the other slaves…_

_The welcoming cool of his home after the desert heat…cool lips kissing his cheek, and loving hands smoothing his disheveled hair…a meagre meal waiting for him, but he couldn't wish for anything different…_

_Watto beating him brutally when he said that the droid was beyond repair…but he could hit him as much as he wanted to, he was used to pain…as long as he spared his Mom…_

_His Mom, looking horribly sad and lonely as he left her forever…_

_Obi-Wan telling him to let go of the past, but he could see that he had been crying recently…and his new Master didn't want to share it with him…why?...he could help share his grief, they were friends…_

_Mom's eyes watching him with love, but he could see the light fleeing from them, her heart beating slower…she was leaving him…if only he had found her sooner…_

_Padmé's eyes shining with eternal love and devotion as the holy man spoke the words of a sacred ceremony…_

_Palpatine telling him not to be ashamed of his anger…his eyes radiating sympathy and love of an uncle…the sound of his own voice complaining about Obi-Wan, and nauseating stabs of shame piercing him as he spoke… Palpatine's kind words making the shame subdue…he had every right to be displeased with Obi-Wan…but still…_

_A laughing Obi-Wan by the fire in the jungle…a great rush of affection blossoming in his chest…He knew that Obi-Wan wasn't proud of him, but it didn't matter because Anakin loved him nonetheless…_

_Padmé telling him that she was pregnant…a mad surge of delight taking hold of him so strongly he couldn't breathe…_

_Red tongues of flames…river of fire…Padmé laying on a cold, metal table...she was crying in agonising pain…she was dying in childbirth…and the Force signatures of his babies were flickering too…_

Obi-Wan snapped his eyes open, feeling dizzy from his trip into Anakin's mind. His heart racing so madly he was afraid it would burst through his chest, he sat there, unmoving, as floods of realisation attacked his brain. Anakin had had the vision of Padmé dying in childbirth…he thought she would die…

Hot blood streamed into his brain, and Obi-Wan rubbed his face with his gloved hand. It was fear for his wife that made Anakin deceive everything he stood for, clinging to the tiniest thread of hope as how to save her…But, at the end, his actions were what led to her death…

How banal and yet ridiculous it was...there were no cravings for power, no desires to rule over the galaxy…Love, the most pure and beautiful thing in the world, turned the brightest pearl into the blackest of all stones. Immeasurable loyalty, a thing highly encouraged by the Order and valued by friends, was the factor that pushed his brother to the abyss. On top of his inability to let go of attachment, it were Anakin's virtues and greatness that killed him…

"Are you alright, Anakin?" a familiar voice asked him.

Obi-Wan turned around and spotted Anakin watching him closely, his eyebrows furrowed in a frown.

"I was meditating," he panted, taking a calming breath. Anakin lowered himself next to him.

"I received a comm call from Master Windu," he said darkly, sending him a meaningful glance. "He wants to talk to me about your appointment."

A sigh escaped Obi-Wan's lips. "Just tell him that I wasn't happy with it, and that you haven't talked to me about it much. Don't try persuading him to remove the task from me. Don't start questioning the Jedi ways."

"I wasn't going to," Anakin said in a surprisingly calm voice, peering apprehensively at him. "I came here because I sensed that something was wrong."

Obi-Wan watched Barriss Offee entering the meditating chamber. She flashed him a smile, and he returned it, feeling as if his lips were frozen. His heart pounding loudly, he wondered if he should tell Anakin everything. Would he believe him if he revealed Palpatine's identity? Would he be angry if Obi-Wan told him that he knew about his vision about Padmé's death? The bitterest thing was that Obi-Wan knew this vision would come true, and he knew exactly how it would happen…

"I'm just…nervous," Obi-Wan said at last, scratching his chin.

"About your arrangement with the Chancellor?" Anakin asked sympathetically.

"I don't know anything about your relationship with him," Obi-Wan said wearily, rubbing his forehead. "What you talk about…how much you tell him…how much he knows about the secrets you have been keeping for years."

Anakin averted his eyes, watching Barriss Offee meditate instead, a look of serenity on her features. "He doesn't know anything about Padmé and I," he said quietly, pursing his lips. "He just knows that I…that I'm not content with the way things go in the Order. He knows about my …darker side, the side that I can never open to the other Jedi."

_I bet he does_, Obi-Wan thought bitterly.

A clear grey met his gaze. The eyes that looked at him were his own, but Obi- had never seen his own eyes swirl with such a myriad of emotions, such suffocating depth, and such a savage fire burning in the depths of the iris…

"Palpatine doesn't know anything you haven't known or suspected about, Master," Anakin said softly, a rueful smile dancing on his lips. "I just express myself more…clearly around him."

"I understand," Obi-Wan said dryly. His voice sounded foreign and lifeless to him.

"Just complain as much about the Order as possible, and you should do fine."

------

The gunship flew gracefully through the tight Coruscanti traffic. At the first sight, the city seemed to have recovered from the Separatists' attack, but Anakin could sense fear spreading like oil in the Force. People were scared, and he was no exception. But it wasn't himself he was scared for, it was Padmé…

"-I don't think the boy can handle it. I don't trust him," Mace Windu said darkly, snapping Anakin out of his reverie.

Why didn't they trust him? Because they were afraid of his power? Because he had known fear, anger and passion? Because he wasn't raised like one of them, having known love and warmth of parent's embrace?

"He will be alright," Anakin said calmly, trying to subdue a boiling feeling of bitterness. "I trust him with my life."

Who was he talking about? Himself or Obi-Wan?

Yoda cast him an unreadable look. Anakin sighed inwardly, wishing to have his Force abilities back. Obi-Wan's connection to the Force was like a listless sound of a solo tube compared to the beautiful symphony of an orchestra. Anakin missed the warmth of the Force, the startling colours of the world…He could hardly sense Padmé…

"The core of the problem, this is," the little Jedi Master said solemnly, his gaze boring into Anakin's, and he hastened to strengthen his mental shields.

"What do you mean, Master Yoda?" Anakin asked, perplexed.

Mace and Yoda exchanged a glance Anakin couldn't interpret.

"Too loyal, young Skywalker is," Yoda said sadly, slumping onto his gimmer stick. "Blinded by affection to the Chancellor, he is. Not be able to see his true face, young Skywalker might."

_The Chancellor is a good man_, Anakin wanted to contradict, feeling a familiar boiling in the pit of his stomach. But his words have hardly formed on the tip of his tongue as he swallowed them. Obi-Wan wouldn't have said it.

"I know," he said instead, nodding curtly. "There is something foul about him, and Anakin can't see it." These words tasted like venom in his mouth.

"Master Kenobi," Mace Windu said, looking sympathetically at him. "Your former Padawan is a Jedi of extraordinary power and skill. He has a potential of becoming one of the greatest Jedi Master one day. But he's still far away from it."

Anakin stared at the two Jedi Master, their faces full of compassion and … unbound respect. He had never seen them looking with respect at _him_. Mace said himself that he was powerful – why did they fail to appreciate his skills and grant him the rank of Master he deserved? He was much more powerful than Obi-Wan; why did someone weaker than he have so much respect, and he didn't?

_Because he has something that you don't have, and you know that._

Something blazing hot and revolting filled his stomach, and Anakin felt shame creeping up in him. He loved and respected his Master, and he was proud of his reputation in the Order. He was more than proud to have been his apprentice. Why did he feel venomous stabs of dark envy piercing him? It was wrong, it felt wrong, and Anakin was disgusted with himself.

"He has no control over his emotions," Anakin repeated the phrase Obi-Wan kept telling him for years. He had usually rolled his eyes whenever Obi-Wan told him that, but now he felt confused. At times, he was scared how easily the Dark Side flew into fight. He had felt invincible and more powerful then, and its consummating after-taste wouldn't leave him for a long time. He was frightened what he might turn into if these slips became more frequent and longer.

A chilling feeling of cold filled him, and Anakin shuddered inwardly, but the coldness would not go away. The phantom sound of horrible, mechanical breathing reverberated in his ears; the same sound he had heard in his nightmare after he had woken up in Obi-Wan's body. But this time it was much clearer, as if he heard _his own_ breathing.

Yoda watched him intently. "Always in motion, future is," he said softly. "Have faith in your former Apprentice, we must have."

Anakin didn't like the way Master Yoda looked at him, but Mace seemed oblivious. He felt confused and suddenly scared, more scared than he had been in his entire life.

_Palpatine_. He needed to talk to Palpatine, to hear the Chancellor's soothing words. But he couldn't. He wouldn't.

Palpatine's kind, wrinkled face appeared before his eyes. But the smile that danced on his features was malicious, and his eyes shone yellow.

--------

The sky was streaked crimson, and waves of cool air brushed against Obi-Wan as he walked through the gardens to the Temple. It was quiet, only the soft rustling of the trees echoing gently at the edge of his hearing.

"Master Skywalker, are you alright?" a child's voice asked from somewhere beneath.

Obi-Wan glanced down, and saw two Younglings watching him warmly. His mechanical arm constricted involuntarily. In only few weeks he would kill the boy standing right before him…

"I'm alright," he lied, feigning a smile.

"No you aren't," a girl said softly, her big green eyes watching him both shy and sympathetically. "But we are sure that you will be. If someone can manage everything, that would be you."

Obi-Wan smiled mirthlessly. Children…they were so pure, so naïve…

"Thank you-" he said, trying to remember the girl's name.

"Leenah," she suggested, looking slightly crestfallen. Anakin must have known her name, and not only hers. After all, he kept spending so much time with the Younglings, play-sparring or just chatting with them. They must have reminded him much of himself, of his own childhood…And he would have been a wonderful father if he hadn't tried to kill both his wife and his unborn children…

"It's late," he exclaimed, suddenly becoming aware of the surroundings. "What are you doing here!"

"Just enjoying the fresh air," the boy said evenly.

"But the rules-" Obi-Wan started, but Leenah interrupted him.

"Master Skywalker, you told us yourself not to give a dam-"

"Leenah!"

"-about the stupid rules," the girl finished sheepishly.

Obi-Wan groaned inwardly. Anakin certainly had a bad influence on the younglings. He had to do something to repair the damage…

"Obi-Wan Kenobi-" he started, but he was interrupted again.

"-is the great Jedi Master, and you're proud to have been his apprentice," the boy finished for him, smiling slightly. "You keep telling that too."

_Do I?_

"I wanted to suggest that you play some tricks on him," Obi-Wan said vaguely, feeling a wonderful sensation of warmth spreading over him. "But he has much to cope with, so, on the other hand, you better not…"

There was a short silence between them.

"We had better get inside," the boy said. "We believe in you, Master Skywalker. May the Force be with you."

Watching their small figures retreat into the Temple, Obi-Wan felt a cold feeling of dread creeping up in him as his thoughts drifted back to the conversation he would be having only in few hours. A familiar golden glow enveloped him, and his heart beat faster. For what it felt like the millionth time today, Obi-Wan felt amazed at how strong the Force was with Anakin.

Was there a limit? There was something he had to try out…

-------

Half an hour later, Obi-Wan stopped his speeder in one of the most distant and horrible regions of the Coruscanti underworld. Clouds of smoke covered the ground, and the stench was unbearable, penetrating through his bones. A large, shabby building towered above him. It must have been mighty once, but it was derelict now.

Reaching into the Force, Obi-Wan concentrated on it. The golden threads enveloped him and the building, and he could see the glowing waters of the Force ocean opening up, revealing layers and layers of glow. Obi-Wan could feel himself bursting with power…much more power than he had ever bore within him. And a part of him enjoyed this intoxicating taste in his mouth, the sweet sensation of being indestructible and almighty…

The edge of his consciousness perceived a loud sound of collapsing debris, and then a cloud of smoke veiled his sight. Only a cloud of dust and pile of ruins was where a grand building stood only minutes ago.

Obi-Wan could feel himself shaking. The Force kept whirling around him like a savage twister, and destroying the whole building appeared to have made him even more powerful…Adrenaline surging through his veins, his entire being calling to do more, to use his power, Obi-Wan truly felt as though he was powerful enough to do _anything_.

On shaking legs, he walked to the speeder, feeling more scared than he had ever felt in his entire life. He was scared of _himself_, of what he might be capable having so much power…

It was no wonder that Anakin had used the wrong side of his immense gift, given his lack of ability to control his emotions. Climbing into the speeder and taking off to the Senate, Obi-Wan couldn't help but think that Anakin was destined to succumb to the Dark Side simply because he was too powerful to control.


	5. The Only One He Ever Loved

Hello!

My finals are finally over! Now, I still have a week of holidays before the term starts, and I hope to get some writing done in this short time.

Thank you so much for reading, and for your wonderful feedback! I hope that the rest of the story will live up your expectations!

**Chapter Four**

**The Only One He Ever Loved**

The red sun had nearly hidden behind the horizon when Obi-Wan ran up the stairs of Coruscanti opera. It was a quiet evening, and a soft breeze toyed gently with his hair as he pushed himself past crowds of dressed up people. They have come here to enjoy the performance, but he was here to protect his brother…and himself.

His heart racing so madly that he was afraid it would jump from his ribcage, Obi-Wan rushed through the tremendous, pompously decorated halls. He had to be calm…he was glad to see the Chancellor…Palpatine was his best friend. Strengthening his mental shields, Obi-Wan entered the Chancellor's box. It was bathed in a ghostly violet light, which accentuated the inhuman pallor of Palpatine's face.

"You wanted to see me, Chancellor," Obi-Wan said evenly, kneeling before the Sith's chair. Dark eyes gleamed at him, but Palpatine's face was indecipherable.

"Yes, Anakin!" Palpatine said, smiling warmly. "Come closer…what is this smell?"

Obi-Wan felt himself blushing. "Erm…I was just-" he stuttered, thinking about his destroying a building midst the foul-smelling garbage. 

Palpatine laughed. It was a deep, barking laughter that had nothing in common with the Emperor's cackling. "Oh, no need for explanations, my boy," he said, still chuckling. "Am I correct to assume that your adventurous side has shown itself again?"

"Erm…" Obi-Wan said, feigning an uncomfortable smile. After all, it wasn't uncommon for Anakin to go to a night stroll into a Coruscanti underworld, or start a garbage race. Or, maybe, his habits have changed in the past three years, given that now he had other, more exciting things to do.

"You strive for adventures never ceases to amaze me, Anakin," Palpatine said, his kind wrinkled face illuminated by an eerie violet light.

_'Of course, it doesn't,'_ Obi-Wan thought darkly. _'You'd be the one to know perfectly after what kind of adventure Anakin would be only in few weeks…'_

"-and I think that I have good news for you," Palpatine continued, smiling slyly, his dark eyes lingering on Obi-Wan's blue ones.

"What do you mean?" Obi-Wan asked dazedly, a slight tremor shading his voice.

"General Grievous has been located. He's hiding in the Utapau system," Palpatine said, his soft voice sounding silkily against the eerie howls of the Squid Lake ballet.

"That's wonderful," Obi-Wan said, stretching his lips into a grin. "At last, we'll be able to catch that monster and end the war." _'And then we'll catch the monster that's sitting next to me'._

"I would worry about the collective wisdom of the Council if they didn't select you for this assignment," Palpatine said blissfully, his unnaturally dark eyes boring deep into Obi-Wan's blue ones. They were full of sympathy and mute pride. "You are their best choice." 

Obi-Wan inclined his head timidly. "Thank you, Chancellor," he said softly. This monster knew exactly what Anakin needed to hear…His words boosted his former Padawan's confidence, whereas Obi-Wan rarely said something that would raise Anakin's pride. Maybe, he should have. Maybe, Anakin wouldn't have spoken so much with the Sith if Obi-Wan had told him more often how proud he was of him…

Palpatine barked a kind laugh. "Sit down," he said gently, pointing to the seat currently vacated by one of his aides. "Leave us," he ordered harshly, the icy tone of his voice sending chills down Obi-Wan's spine. It was unnerving how differently Palpatine behaved in front of Anakin than he did with everyone else… 

"I see that something is troubling you, my boy," Palpatine said gently, looking intently at him. Obi-Wan pretended not to notice the Sith's piercing stare as he gazed absent-mindedly at the show. The actors performed a complicated dance, and Obi-Wan wondered dumbly how they could leap so high without the Force.

"I…" Obi-Wan began slowly, still pretending to be interested in the ballet. "I don't know what to think anymore."

He glanced surreptitiously at Palpatine, expecting the monster to wear an insidious, triumphant expression, but only the kind face of an aged man looked back at him. "Is it the Council?" the Sith asked sympathetically, smiling slightly. His eyes shone with deep compassion, the violet illumination accentuating his wrinkles, making him look wise and serene.

"My trust in them has been … shaken," Obi-Wan said, his stomach filling with something incredibly heavy and slimy as he spoke. But have the actions of the Council always been wise? He had never liked their decision to make Anakin spy on Palpatine anyway.

Palpatine drew a deep breath and glanced away, pursuing his lips. "They asked you to spy on me, didn't they?" His voice sounded weary and gloomy.

A heavy silence pervaded the box. Only the drawn-out moans of the ballet resounded in the loge. Palpatine was a perfect shell for Sidious – a father figure Anakin had needed badly. Someone older and wiser than Anakin, someone who could guide him through the harshness of life beyond the Temple. Something that Obi-Wan couldn't have done. Something that Obi-Wan never tried to do.

"I don't know what to say," Obi-Wan said at last, lowering his head. Palpatine had been an excellent actor. If he hadn't known that the feeble man in front of him was the ultimate evil, he'd have never discovered his real identity. There was no trace of darkness in his aura, no hint at his extraordinary abilities; only a monotonous, grey glow of a non-Force-sensitive person.

"I don't blame them," the Chancellor said slowly, apparently oblivious to Obi-Wan's musings. "They did what they thought was right. They did what they thought was for the best."

"But it can't be right," Obi-Wan muttered sincerely. "Spying on friends can never be right." Anakin's face, twisted by pain and numb anger, swam again before his eyes. Spying on friends was wrong…as well as slaughtering the whole Order just to save one woman…as well as sneaking on that woman's ship to kill the man they both loved beyond anything… 

Memories of Anakin's hatred-filled, piercing scream resounding in his ears once more, Obi-Wan turned to the Chancellor. Palpatine sighed wearily and shook his head, his thin lips feigning a rueful smile. "Anakin, you're still very young," he began softly, the warmth of his dark eyes disarming Obi-Wan.

"There are many things in this world your mind fails to understand yet. But all who gain power are afraid to lose it. Even the Jedi."

That was true, Obi-Wan knew it. He'd never had so much power like he did now, in the body of the Chosen One. As much as Obi-Wan wished to wake up in his own body, a part of him knew that he'd miss the feeling of raw power surging through his veins. He'd miss the beauty of the world, and the feeling of belonging to something greater than he could comprehend…And a tiny part of Obi-Wan, the part that wanted to believe Palpatine's sweet, consoling words, didn't want to part with Anakin's body…

"The Jedi use their power for the good," Obi-Wan contradicted weakly. "But power can be misused if it is in the hands of an evil person."

Palpatine's dark eyes scrutinised him, and Obi-Wan dimly sensed a ray of dark energy boring at him. "Good and evil depend on point of view, Anakin," the Sith said, his voice as soft as whisper of the wind in the forest.

"There is no point of view on good and evil," Obi-Wan said uncertainly, glancing over at Palpatine. "Sith are evil."

But are the Jedi good? Was it good to dismember someone and leave him burn to death, defenseless? Was it good to sneak on someone's ship without their knowledge? Was it good to battle against someone who could still have been saved?

Everything that stood against Jedi Code was evil. Wanting the power over the galaxy was evil. Slaughtering all friends and even children was evil. Then love was also evil.

Palpatine's eyes glinted oddly. "The Sith and Jedi are similar in almost every way, including their quest for greater power," he said slowly, entwining his long fingers. "But the Sith aren't afraid of the Dark Side of the Force. That's why they are more powerful."

It was hot, and Obi-Wan could feel perspiration forming on his face. "The Dark Side consumes the person until there is nothing left," he said firmly, but his voice trembled treacherously. He could see his own perplexed reflection in Palpatine's gleaming eyes.

"So does the Light Side," Palpatine contradicted softly, turning to watch the show. Glancing at the Sith's well-defined profile, Obi-Wan searched himself for the answer to this statement. Passion, romantic love and attachment were forbidden virtues for the Jedi. But after his trip into Anakin's memories, memories that were full of love and devotion, Obi-Wan had felt strangely…void. The warmth of his mother's embrace…Padmé's loving touch…primitive feelings of unborn Luke and Leia…there was so much beauty in Anakin's world that he had never known, and a large part of him envied his brother for knowing something he could never have. Was it right to deprive beings of these beautiful things? Did being a Jedi mean losing a part of humanity?

"The Jedi are selfless," Obi-Wan said gloomily, feeling even more confused. "They can let go of things for the greater good. They only care about the others." 

Palpatine smiled aggravatingly. "You have been trained to believe so. Why, then, were you assigned to spy on me? Why don't the Jedi care about you?"

Obi-Wan had no answer for it. "Because this is the will of the Force," he said barely audible, lowering his head.

A slight chuckle resounded next to him, and he looked up. Palpatine was watching him sympathetically, yet a malicious smile hid at the corners of his lips. "What if the Force were wrong?"

Again, Obi-Wan kept silent. His head ached horribly, and he felt as weary as he had felt in his hut, midst the vast ocean of endless sands.

"What if the Force were wrong, and you were given the chance to correct its mistake? What would you do?"

His heart racing madly, Obi-Wan felt a rush of hot blood streaming to his face. "What do you mean?" he asked in a hushed voice, clenching his flesh hand into a fist to stop it from shaking.

Shadows obscured Palpatine's ghostly pale face, and his eyes gleamed no more. "Death," a voice came from the shadows.

Obi-Wan stared at him, perplexed, his thoughts racing madly. "I don't understand."

"Did you ever hear about the tragedy of Darth Plagueis 'the wise'?"

Obi-Wan shook his head no, a nauseating feeling of foreboding spreading up in him. A mournful howling of the ballet continued brushing his hearing, resembling the moaning of the wind on Tatooine.

The shadows smiled. "I thought not. It is a Sith legend."

"What does it tell?" Obi-Wan asked hoarsely, clenching his armchair. 

"Darth Plagueis was a Dark Lord of the Sith, so powerful and so wise he could use the Force to influence the midi-chlorians to create life ... He had such a knowledge of the dark side that he could even keep the ones he cared about from dying."

"He could actually save people from death?" Obi-Wan asked, mesmerised by the tale against his will. _Anakin, why did you listen to this legend? Why couldn't you look past this lie? _

Palpatine leaned forward, the shadows lessening their grip on him. "The dark side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural," he said slowly, a ghost of ominous smile on his features that didn't look so kind anymore.

"What happened to him?"

"He became so powerful . . . the only thing he was afraid of was losing his power, which eventually, of course, he did. Unfortunately, he taught his apprentice everything he knew, then his apprentice killed him in his sleep."

_'Three guesses at the identity of the apprentice.'  
_

A ruthless smile passed over Palpatine's face, his eyes flashing brightly. Obi-Wan didn't like the way the Sith Lord was looking at him. Something was wrong…

"And how did you learn the Sith legend, _Chancellor?" _Obi-Wan asked cautiously, unable to stop himself. "How do you know something that even the Jedi don't?" 

Palpatine smiled triumphantly, looking more like the Emperor as ever. If evil had a face that was it. "Search your feelings, Anakin. You have the answer."

Obi-Wan stared numbly at Palpatine, immobilized by horror. He knows, a thought flashed through him like a bolt of lightning.

"I have to go," he managed to choke out. "Padmé is waiting for me."

He didn't remember how his legs carried him from the box, Palpatine's penetrating eyes not leaving him. An icy feeling of cold paralysing him, he ran again through the pompous hallway, to his speeder. 

Anakin…He needed to talk to Anakin…

Anakin had to know…

He had to know that Obi-Wan failed him again.

-----   
_He was lying on a cold, metallic operational table. His entire body was burning with an excruciating pain as if he were on fire. Hot, blazing pain tingled at his limbs so strongly he wanted to scream, but no sound came out._

He opened his eyes, and the room based in eerie, red light appeared before his sight. Where were the bright, sparkling colours of the world? They were gone – there was only red; a monotonous, dull, taunting, malicious red.

He could still feel the hungry tongues of flames licking at his body; the revolting stench of burning flesh still lingered in his nostrils. He felt cold. He shivered, the frigid prison of his suit cutting roughly into his incarcerated, burned flesh, but there was no source of warmth in the world that would make him feel warm again.

A horribly drawled mechanic hiss reached his hearing. It was the sound of breathing…someone was breathing next to him. Another hiss reverberated in the crimson room, and his chest exploded in pain. Unbidden sense of panic spread in him…something was wrong…Feeling a great urge to leap off the table, to run away from this horrible room, he constricted his muscles to jump off, just as he always did, but his body didn't obey him. The sound of mechanical breathing came quickened, as though that person was scared, and his lungs erupted in fireworks of pain.

Then a shocking realisation came upon him like the blade of the one he loved as a father: it was his breathing…he was hearing his own breathing…

Anakin woke up, gasping for air. Still dizzy from his nightmare, he sat up, taking the surroundings in. A soft breeze of wind stroked his face, and Padmé's apartment bathed in twilight swam into his sight. The sounds of breathing that resounded in his ears were that of a human – not a machine, and the hot, agonising pain was gone. Yet, echoes of it still lingered, and Anakin doubted that they'd ever pass.

_'It was a dream. It was only a dream.'_

His breathing still ragged, Anakin ran his hand over his face, harsh beard tingling at his palm. Why did he keep dreaming about that man? He had the strangest feeling as though he was somehow connected to him. Who was he? What had happened to him that he was forced to be forever imprisoned in that terrible suit?

Anakin swung his legs over and sat up, resting his face in his hands. It was quiet, the muffled noises of traffic outside echoing softly at the edge of his hearing. That man was so bitter, so sad, yet so full of … hatred.

Was it a warning from the Force? Or was that man another person that needed help? Anakin let out a strangled sigh, pressing his closed eyelids so tightly that green circles danced before his eyes. Padmé would die in childbirth, and he still hadn't figured out how he could save her...How was he supposed to save two people – his wife and a stranger when he was incarcerated in his Master's body? How could he help the man from his dream at all? He was so full of bitterness and hatred…Was it possible that anyone could save him?

"Ani?" Padmé's voice came from behind.

He turned around and saw her entering the apartment, clad in a Senatorial robe, her magnificent hair styled into a rigorous bundle.

"I thought you were supposed to be at the Temple," she said with a slight smile, lowering herself next to him and giving him a brief kiss; too brief for his taste.

"I am, but Obi-Wan doesn't," Anakin retorted, stretching his lips into a grin. He leaned back and massaged his temples, the horrible sound of mechanical breathing from his dream still echoing in his head.

"Ruining Master Kenobi's reputation of a perfect Jedi, aren't you?" Padmé asked, amused, gently pulling his hands away.

Anakin merely grumbled. His head ached horribly, so did his back. Obi-Wan wasn't that old yet…Did his former Master always feel as though he had just crawled from under the crashed Separatist flagship? No wonder he was so grumpy.

"Ani, are you alright?" Padmé asked anxiously, squeezing his hand. 

"My back hurts," Anakin muttered stiffly, trying to take a more comfortable position.

Padmé seized his shoulders and made him lie on his stomach. She started massaging his back, and Anakin moaned in relief, especially as her fingers closed at a particularly painful knot.

"My poor, old husband," she said softly, though he could have sworn to hear notes of amusement in her voice.

"Does it feel good to be the younger one, Padmé?" Anakin asked casually, the icy hold of the vision slowly lessening its grip from Padmé's gentle touch. That man had no one who could have touched him that way…he had no body left…

She snorted. "It's a good exercise for me," she said lightly, her hands slipping from under his robes, his bare skin tingling as though charged with electricity from her touch. "I guess I'll have to do it more often in twenty years, Knight Skywalker."

"No, you won't have to!" Anakin retorted in indignation, raising his head from the pillow. "I'll never be such a broken heap of old bones like Obi-Wan."

Padmé smacked him on the head, chuckling. "One would hope that being in Obi-Wan's body would lessen your arrogance," she said casually, her fingers pressing a tightened muscle on his lower back, and Anakin groaned involuntarily.

"And now you sounded like a little girl, Hero With No Fear," she whispered, leaning down, her hot breath tickling Anakin's ear.

"Did not!" Anakin protested, scandalised. Padmé giggled.

"Women," Anakin muttered, shifting his head. "You don't understand anything…How am I supposed to live with both you and my daughter?" 

"It's a son," Padmé said firmly, massaging his shoulder blades. "And I'm the one who should be worried about living with two Skywalker men."

"Our child is a girl," Anakin repeated stubbornly, ignoring the sounds of protest that came from Padmé. "But if you want a boy, we'll make one. I should get my body back first, though."

Padmé laughed, her fingers continuing to massage his back mercilessly. "You have a knot here," she said anxiously, pressing on the spot so strongly that he yelped in pain again. "I'll bring some oils. Take off your shirt."

Take off his shirt! There was no way he would let Padmé see a half-naked Obi-Wan. It was bad enough that he'd seen the whole of his former Master, and Anakin preferred not to think that it was true vice-versa.

"NO!" he exclaimed in panic, wrestling himself from her touch and sitting up. "I'm not taking my shirt in front of you!"

Padmé watched him, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "That's very unusual of you to say, Ani," she said, amused, the corners of her mouth twitching in smile.

"It's not funny," Anakin said grudgingly, straightening his robes and demonstratively moving away from Padmé.

"Why do all men run away from me?" Padmé asked in a mock frustration, curling her lips into a loveable shape. A loose curl escaped her hair dress, lying seductively on her forehead.

"Sweetheart, believe me, you'd be the one who'd be running away from me now if I were in my own body," Anakin said, sighing slightly. It would be so easy to undo her hair from that hairstyle… he had got pretty good at it over three years of marriage. But the many buttons on the Senatorial robes still drove him into frustration, so he usually used the Force to open them. He'd never tell Padmé about it, though – she would say that he was cheating.

Padmé moved closer to him, and he wrapped his arms around her, taking her sweet scent in. During the many months he'd been away, only the moments like this one kept driving him to raise a hand, to make a strike, or to breathe. He was a Jedi, a protector of the innocent and one of the keepers of peace. Besides, he was the Chosen One and the famous Hero with No Fear – the icon of balance in the chaotic galaxy. But these grand titles meant nothing to him. These titles described another person. Deep inside, he was only a little Ani from Tatooine – a little boy who was incredibly talented at fixing things. He was only a curious boy who wanted to see all the wonders of the world. He was only a naïve boy who once thought to be strong enough to free all the slaves. He was only a lost, shivering from cold little boy who didn't have his place in the life.

Where did he belong? What was he chosen for? Was he chosen to save other people, people unknown to him? Or was he chosen to live a quiet, peaceful life with his wife and his child? It was impossible to save all the people – many didn't even want to be saved. They continued to dwell in their illusionary worlds simply because they were too frightened to leave their cozy shells. But it wasn't impossible to save those he loved…those he couldn't live without. It was impossible to repeat the same mistake twice. It had to be impossible…

"Ani, why did Obi-Wan and you switch bodies?" Padmé asked quietly, breaking his train of thought.

Anakin took his time. "I don't know," he replied honestly, stroking her shoulders absent-mindedly. She was so warm… Anakin wondered how he could have existed so long without her petite body wrapped in his arms.

"There is always a reason," he said slowly. "Or maybe, the Force just got bored." He chuckled. "As long as Obi-Wan has to make dirty Council's assignments, I really don't mind."

"Aren't you worried that Obi-Wan might tell the Council about us?"

Anakin pondered for a moment. Obi-Wan was a Jedi by the book, but he trusted him with his life. Anakin was sure that Obi-Wan had always suspected that there was more to his and Padmé relationship that met the eye, yet his former Master had never shared his suspicions with anyone, and Anakin was deeply grateful for it. Although, this could have been explained by the fact that Obi-Wan hadn't been sure in his assumptions, he'd gotten his proof this morning, and now nothing prevented him from confessing the truth to the Council.

In his mind's eye, he pictured clearly Obi-Wan standing before the entire Council, looking dignified and serene as he always did. What would he say to them?

_Masters, today I woke up next to Anakin's wife, in Anakin's body. They have been married for three years. What's more, Padmé is pregnant with Anakin's child – she told me it when she tried to kiss me._

Anakin chuckled reluctantly, aware of Padmé's worried glance. It sounded strange to his ears, but he was sure that Obi-Wan would find a more elegant way to express the situation.

_But he wouldn't do it._

Obi-Wan was not only his former Master, he was also his brother. How many times did he stand up for Anakin before the Council? Obi-Wan cared for him in his own way, and Anakin had to be blind not to see it. Obi-Wan wouldn't let him down.

"I trust him," Anakin said quietly, gazing at the shroud of night falling on the city. The neon lights shone merrily, illuminating Coruscant, and reflecting from the hundreds of speeders that zoomed outside. Everything looked so quiet, so peaceful…It seemed nearly insane that people could drive on the streets as though nothing had happened, as though there were no war, as though he and Obi-Wan weren't trapped in each others' bodies, as though Padmé wasn't close to dying…

Instinctively, he hugged her even tighter in an insane hope that nothing could harm her as long as he held her. Padmé leaned closer to him, and he could feel their child's heartbeat pounding rhythmically in harmony with his own, as though the tiny being was telling him that everything would be alright. And it would be, because its Daddy would make sure that it would.

"I wish it would be over," Padmé said softly, absent-mindedly drawing circles on his chest with her finger. "The war…this madness…" She looked up at him, her chocolate orbs bearing a look of sadness. "I miss your locks," she whispered, running her hand through Obi-Wan's straight, short-chopped hair.

"But you have a beard to toy with instead," Anakin said, seizing her hands and kissing the tips of her fingers.

Padmé smiled. "I like it," she said, her lips stretched into the playful grin that he loved so much. "But I miss everything else about you."

Her words, although innocent and sincere, raised alarms in his head, the sound of a horrible mechanical breathing resounding once again. "Padmé, I'm a Jedi," he said slowly, the words slipping reluctantly from his lips. "What if…what if I were injured in the war, and…and would never-"

_'What if I would never look the same again,'_ he wanted to say, but the words refused to be spoken aloud. It was a simple question, why was it so hard to bring it out? It wouldn't matter to him if Padmé were the one who'd lose her physical beauty – for him, she would always be the most beautiful woman in the world no matter what she looked like in reality. But would she still love him if he…if he became something like the man from his dream? If he lost his good looks due to a fatal injury?

Padmé's eyes flashed oddly. "Ani, do you think that I love you only because you're handsome?" she asked in a hushed whisper. "I would never stop loving you, no matter what you look like."

She looked so fierce, that immediately, Anakin felt a tug of shame. "Padmé-"he began awkwardly, but she cut through him.

"This swap is a perfect trial for our love," Padmé said hotly, her eyes glittering. "It shows that the looks don't matter! I don't care that you look like Obi-Wan, and I wouldn't care less if next time you switched bodies with Representative Binks!"

"Better Binks than Yoda," Anakin muttered, an image himself in Jar Jar's body tripping over his robes flashing in his mind.

Padmé threw him a dirty look. "I'm being serious, Ani," she said reproachfully, but then she broke into an amused grin. "Though, you're right. Yoda would be a bit too…small to-"

Anakin coughed. "So, you'd rather kiss Jar Jar than Yoda?" he asked incredulously, envisioning Master Yoda sitting on Padmé's lap, hitting her on her head with his gimer stick as she attempted to kiss him.

"I'd rather not comment on it, Knight Skywalker," Padmé said, paling slightly, shuddering involuntarily. She pulled him closer. "We were lucky that you switched with Obi-Wan." She smiled seductively. "Besides, I think that Obi-Wan is very handsome."

"Hey, Obi-Wan is not-" Anakin protested, appalled, but Padmé silenced him with a passionate kiss. Their kiss deepening, she pushed him on the couch, the feeling of warmth and happiness washing over Anakin with such intensity that he ignored the pains in his back. This helps better than massage.

Suddenly, a hot feeling of anguish pierced through him, immobilizing him. Someone was torn and confused…someone was suffering. Gently disentangling himself from Padmé, Anakin sat up, his heart racing madly. Obi-Wan…Obi-Wan was in trouble…Obi-Wan needed him.

"What is it, Ani?" Padmé asked anxiously, stroking her shoulder, her big brown eyes sparkling brightly against her rosy cheeks.

"Obi-Wan is in trouble," Anakin panted heavily, pulling himself together. 'Obi-Wan, you've chosen the perfect timing,', he thought grudgingly.

"What happened to him?"

Anakin shook his head. "I don't know," he said vaguely, standing up and straightening his wrinkled robes. Obi-Wan cared so much about his clothing…"But he needs me."

Giving Padmé his briefest kiss ever, Anakin hurried out of the apartment, Obi-Wan's calls for him burning within him like savage flames, much like the untamed feelings of the man from his dream.

16


	6. A True Friend

Hi! I hope you all had a nice, happy Halloween! The absolutely not halloween-ish chapter is coming with a one-day-delay. :)

I know that

Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy! I also hope that your (hopefully) positive feedback will help me fight the Writer's Block.

**Chapter Five**

**A true Friend**

As if in trance, Obi-Wan walked in the hallway of the Temple, his stride having lost its usual elegance. Indistinct shadows passed him as he went, but he didn't notice them, his entire being pulsating with desperation. He halted before a dull, grey door, which hid the only person that could help him; the person which he managed to fail again, the second time around.

The door slid open, and Obi-Wan stepped into his own quarters. He couldn't see anything, he couldn't think… Only clouds of grey mist swirled before his sight.

"Obi-Wan?" Anakin's voice sounded from somewhere far away.

Swaying slightly, Obi-Wan tried to walk to where he thought the sleeping couch was, but his legs refused to carry him. Vaguely, he felt two hands seizing him and steering him towards the couch.

"Master, what happened?" Anakin asked anxiously, as Obi-Wan slumped on the couch.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan began, his slurred voice sounding oddly faint to his ears. _He knows that I'm not Anakin. He knows that I'm not Anakin. He'll find a way to claim Anakin again._

"Master, are you…What is this smell?" Anakin asked slowly, abashed. The hazy outline of the bearded man sniffed at the black tunic, shaking its head in frustration. "Master, what have you been thinking, going to meet the Chancellor like this-"

Obi-Wan felt too frozen to pay attention to Anakin's last words. "He's not who he pretends to be," he whispered heavily, a cold numbness spreading over him.

Anakin appeared not to have heard him. He stood up and walked to the water tin. _Palpatine knows that I know who he is_. Obi-Wan had failed Anakin, and the entire galaxy. What measures might the Sith Lord undertake now? Would he execute Order 66 sooner? Or did he something even more deadly up his sleeve?

Someone pressed a glass of water into Obi-Wan's hand. "Drink it, Master," Anakin said softly. A hand touched his forehead, and Obi-Wan dimly perceived familiar waves of Force flowing through his body. Grey, malicious fog lessened its hold on him, and Obi-Wan felt slightly better.

"You're burning," Anakin stated anxiously, firmly pushing him to the pillows and kneeling before him. "Master, what happened?"

"The Chancellor is not who he pretends to be," Obi-Wan whispered, his tongue dry and heavy.

"What?" Anakin asked, taken aback, as he put a wet cloth on Obi-Wan's forehead.

"Palpatine is a Sith Lord," Obi-Wan managed to choke out, feeling an endless weariness overtaking him. His limbs felt incredulously heavy, and his head ached horribly.

Looking overly concerned, Anakin shook his head, feigning a smile. "You have fever, Master," he said gently. "Try to get some sleep, and we will discuss it in the morning when you feel better."

How could Anakin be so ignorant, so blind? The man he saw as an uncle, the man who knew his most intimate fears and thrives was a Sith…He had never cared about his friend, he had never loved him. He had befriended the little boy only to seduce him.

Anakin… loyal, devoted Anakin…A bright-eyed boy who cried himself into sleep because he'd missed his mother…A kind-hearted boy, who wanted to help Obi-Wan share his grief, even though he'd been doing even worse…A person who was born to love and be loved…A man who fell into hands of a monster only because he loved too much…

A sudden flow of hot anger overwhelmed Obi-Wan, and he sat up rigidly, shoving Anakin's hand away. Anakin had been blinded by his affection to the Chancellor…How could Obi-Wan make his friend look past his love to the monster, past his devotion? Would Obi-Wan's confession make Anakin choose between his Master, who, as he'd thought, had never taken care of him, and between the man he loved as an uncle?

Ignoring Anakin's look of bewilderment, Obi-Wan nearly jumped off the bed and started pacing, his blood nearly boiling. Why did Anakin have to be so compassionate, so trustful? Why did he befriend the Chancellor in the first place? Why didn't the friendship Obi-Wan offered him sufficed?

"Why, Anakin?!" Obi-Wan yelled, halting abruptly. His vision spinning, he pierced Anakin with an unwavering stare, his heart hammering savagely. He didn't know why he was so angry. Maybe not only mothers but also fathers had misbalanced hormones?

"Why did you have to befriend him?!"

"Master," Anakin began calmly, though his eyes were wide in shock. He had clearly not seen Obi-Wan lose his temper before. And when they switched back, he wouldn't witness that ever again.

Panting heavily, Obi-Wan approached Anakin. "Don't tell me to calm down, Anakin," he said through gritted teeth, feeling adrenaline surging through him. He wanted to blast something…"Force, even your body exerts bad influence on me," he muttered, looking aside.

"No, actually it does wonders on you," Anakin retorted with a fluent grin. "In any case, you are much more handsome than usually." Then the fleeting look of amusement disappeared from his face, replaced by concern. "What's the matter, Master? Who didn't I have to befriend?"

"Palpatine!" Obi-Wan yelled, taking a step closer to Anakin.

Irritation and concern fought on Anakin's face, as his lips quivered strangely as though he wanted to say something. "He's a good man," he managed to say at last, turning around and scratching his chin, dishevelling the beard.

Automatically, Obi-Wan yanked Anakin's hand away from his face with his metallic arm, squeezing it painfully. "Don't you touch the beard," he hissed menacingly, resisting the urge to grab Anakin by his shoulders and give him a good shake for his stupidity that cost them all so much. The entire Order was slaughtered…Padmé faded away…Luke and Leia had to be separated…and after Mustafar, Obi-Wan would never be whole again…

"He's not a good man, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, his voice shaking madly. "He's the Sith Lord the Jedi are looking for."

His words were met by the loudest silences he'd ever heard. The air seemed to ring shrilly around them, and Obi-Wan could hear their hearts pounding fervently. Anakin stared at him in mute shock, his eyes wide open. Conflicting emotions swirled in them, his iris burning with untamed flames.

"What?" he asked so softly that Obi-Wan had to strain his ears to comprehend him.

"Palpatine is Darth Sidious," Obi-Wan repeated dryly, feeling an unbidden rush of schadenfreude overwhelm him at the sight of Anakin's abashed face. "The man you're so fond of is a monster."

Anakin staggered backwards until he ran into the wall. "He can't be," he said evenly, his face drained from any colour. "He can't be…" he repeated, with a hint of a plea in his voice. "He's always been kind to me; he has best interest of Republic at heart."

"Think rationally, Anakin," Obi-Wan said calmly, taking a step closer to Anakin. "Why does the war only escalate with each day? How did he manage to obtain the emergency powers?"

"Because he's a skilled politician," Anakin retorted vaguely, blinking rapidly.

"Why did he befriend you in the first place? Why _you_, the Chosen One of all the Jedi?"

"Because he sensed that I needed a friend," Anakin said stiffly, refusing to meet Obi-Wan's eyes.

Obi-Wan barked a mirthless laugh. "Oh yes, he sensed that much."

"Palpatine is not a Sith Lord," Anakin said firmly, whirling past Obi-Wan and going to the middle of the room. "This is preposterous."

"Open your eyes, Anakin!" Obi-Wan said, spinning around, his voice almost a shout. He took a step toward Anakin. "How can you be so ignorant, so oblivious to the truth? He's playing with you, and you're just a marionette, just a slave in his hands!"

His words were met by another stiff, dismal silence in which Anakin stared at Obi-Wan as though he'd never seen him before. _That was a wise thing to say, Kenobi, _he thought sarcastically.

"Get out," Anakin said after what seemed eternity, his voice horribly low and raucous.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said almost pleadingly, refusing to believe his ears. He felt as though air has been drawn from his lungs.

"Out!" Anakin barked, his eyes gleaming closely reminiscent to the way they gleamed on Mustafar.

Very slowly, Obi-Wan walked to the door, a revolting feeling of numbness returning to him. Only now it was mingled with the all-too-familiar tiredness he'd experienced on Tatooine…

As he got to the door, he turned around one last time. Anakin stood rigidly in the middle of the room, the battle of anger and confusion clearly showing on his face.

"I know that the truth hurts, but you must open your eyes to it," Obi-Wan said quietly, feeling his shoulders slumping. "Search your feelings-"

"I don't need to hear your Jedi teachings," Anakin interrupted him coldly. "And now get out."

Obi-Wan left his own quarters, the door hissing angrily in his wake. Once in the corridor, he slumped helplessly to the floor and rested his aching head in his hands. He thought he heard the moaning, drawn-out howls of the win on Tatooine calling for him again in this cold, grey hallway.

Anakin stared blankly at the spot where Obi-Wan had been standing only instants before. Only the dull, grey metal of the door gleamed bleakly in the dim light. On wobbling legs, Anakin dragged himself to the couch and slumped on it, his mind spinning.

How could Obi-Wan lie about something that serious?

'_He wouldn't'_, a small voice said in his head. '_Obi-Wan would never lie to you. He never has.'_

But this was preposterous! Palpatine was a good man. Palpatine was the only one who had always welcomed him with open arms.

'_Obi-Wan is right'_, the voice said, this time more firmly. '_Why did Palpatine befriend him, of all Jedi?'_

Anakin let a frustrated sigh, resting his head in his hands. The Chancellor must have seen how lost and confused he was. As time passed, their friendship grew. Anakin didn't know how he could have survived without the conversations with his friend. Sometimes he had the feeling as though the Chancellor knew him better than he did himself, as though he could sense his thoughts.

'_Isn't it strange that Palpatine tells you only what you want to hear?'_

Again, this was preposterous. Palpatine encouraged him to develop his potential; he never judged him. He had always been a special Jedi, and he couldn't follow the same path as the others. He drew his power from his anger, from his passion. They made him strong and indestructible.

'_Listen to yourself!'_ The voice yelled, panicked. '_These are dark thoughts. Do you want to suffer the same fate as the man from your dreams? Isn't it disturbing that Palpatine seems to push you toward this path?'_

Unable to sit any longer, Anakin stood up and started pacing in the quarters, his insides squirming painfully at the echoes of his dreams. That man was bitter and vile…and yet Anakin could associate himself with the man astonishingly well, as though they were somehow connected. It was true that Palpatine encouraged him to use his anger, and sometimes Anakin wondered idly by the knowledge of the Force the Chancellor possessed. But Palpatine was a well-educated man…

Bemused, Anakin halted, rubbing his forehead. The thought that the Chancellor could have been the Sith Lord they were looking for, was ridiculous. But why would Obi-Wan lie to him? Anakin trusted his former Master more than he trusted himself, but his trust in Palpatine was equally large.

In a way, Obi-Wan was right – it did seem suspicious that Palpatine managed to keep his post for so long. It was disturbing that he knew so much about the ways of the Force. At times, Anakin did feel uncomfortable revealing so much of his deepest secrets to Palpatine. At times, he did sense an ambiguous sense of malevolence rolling off the Chancellor, and the way his eyes seemed to have a hint of lightest yellow to them…But he explained it merely by his weariness and tricks of light. One thing remained unchanged – Palpatine was his best friend. He was the only one who had never pushed Anakin away, the only one who would always support any decision he would take.

But still, why would Obi-Wan say such a thing about him?

With a sigh, Anakin walked to the couch and plonked on it, massaging his temples. His head started aching again. The only way to resolve this misunderstanding was to see the Chancellor.

He didn't care that he was in Obi-Wan's body. After all, his former Master was a Council member – he could pretend that he had some Council business to discuss.

He would go to the Chancellor first thing in the morning.

Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes passed away. Obi-Wan sat on the floor by his own quarters, unmoving. He didn't know how long he sat like this. His head was filled with a thick, grey fog of numbness, and he couldn't think clearly.

Palpatine knew about the ruse…

Anakin didn't trust him…

He had made Anakin turn away from him again…

Why should he do? Would it better to take matters into his own hands and confront Palpatine to prevent him from seducing Anakin the second time around? Or should he wait and see how the things would develop?

Obi-Wan took a deep, shaky breath, the sound of his inhale resembling a sob. He had never felt so alone.

A quiet rustling of fabric resounded by his ear, and a small shadow hovered over him.

"Master Kenobi, much to talk about we have," Master Yoda's voice said calmly by his ear.

Obi-Wan froze.

9


	7. Confrontation

I apologise for the long wait!I have been struck by a particularly cruel DWB for this story, and couldn't battle it due to the ever intensifying RL. I hope to update sooner next time, but again, I can't promise…

My most sincere apologies again!

I'm posting the un-betaed chapter because I couldn't make you wait any longer… I'll edit this post with the corrected version as soon as my marvellous beta proof-reads it. My apologies for my baaaaad grammar…

Thank you so very much for reading, and I hope you enjoy this short intervention:

* * *

_A few days after Darth Vader was born, the Dark Lord and Obi-Wan have been sent into the past. They switched bodies. Anakin has no memories of his fall to the Dark Side, but Obi-Wan remembers everything._

_They decide to pretend being each other._

_Even though Anakin doesn't remember his past, the glimpses of it haunt him in his dreams and visions._

_As Obi-Wan goes to meet Palpatine, the Sith Lord sees his true identity—their ruse is broken. _

_Crestfallen and confused, Obi-Wan tells Anakin about the truth about his so-called-friend, but Anakin doesn't believe him. _

_Obi-Wan meets Yoda, and the green Master tells him that he knows about the switch…

* * *

_

**Chapter Six**

**The Confrontation**

Obi-Wan froze. "How- "

Master Yoda stared at him closely. "Sense a soft tremor in the Force, I did. A person's Force signature even and smooth is. But yours and young Skywalker's ripped and jagged appeared to be, as though something force itself into your body did."

Chuckling grimly, Obi-Wan rubbed the bridge of his nose with his left hand. "And I thought we disguised ourselves well. Does the entire Jedi Council know about the ruse?" Somehow, it wouldn't surprise him if they did.

Master Yoda shook his head. "Mask yourself well, you and young Skywalker did. The only one who the truth knows, am I."

Obi-Wan peered from under his fingers. "No, you aren't."

A short silence hung in the hall. Obi-Wan wondered idly whether he had ever seen Master Yoda surprised—the Jedi Master had always looked calm and serene. His green eyes were perhaps a tiny bit rounder than they usually were.

Master Yoda clutched his stick tighter. "Go somewhere else we probably should."

* * *

Water sparkled merrily in the Room of Thousand Fountains, whispering quietly in its own, unknown tongue. Everything was peaceful, not knowing about the coming massacre—hills of dead bodies, red water, clouds of smoke… Obi-Wan balled his mechanical hand into a tight fist.

"The Supreme Chancellor Palpatine is the Sith Lord," he said shortly, lowering himself onto the edge of one of the fountains.

Master Yoda's eyes narrowed slightly. "Sure about this, are you?"

Obi-Wan smiled ruefully. "I am."

Yoda slumped wearily on his stick. "Fear this, I did," he said quietly, his voice nearly a whisper. "Tell me everything, you should."

Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan started with his tale. He spoke about Anakin's vision, about his turn to the Dark Side and about the ferocious duel they'd had on Mustafar. He mentioned his seclusion on Tatooine and what became of Anakin after Mustafar. Master Yoda's eyes flickered with compassion. It was hard speaking about it, but Obi-Wan tried to remain impassive, describing those events as though it hadn't happen to him and it was someone else's life he was retelling. Slowly, he came to the most impossible part of his tale—a violent shift in the Force and the morning he woke up in Anakin's body before everything had started falling apart.

"But Anakin doesn't remember anything that happened to him," Obi-Wan concluded bitterly. "He could repeat the same mistakes again, and then the switch would have been for nothing."

Master Yoda closed his eyes tightly. "A disturbing story you told me, Master Kenobi. So, a Dark Path young Skywalker had chosen."

"He didn't choose anything yet," Obi-Wan contradicted coolly. His back was becoming wet from the water.

"Always in motion, future is. Not follow his former footsteps, Anakin may. However, be on guard we must—become Darth Vader again, he can."

Obi-Wan clenched the edge of the fountain with his artificial hand. "What should I do, Master?" Anakin's voice sounded incredibly childish to his ears.

"Change the course of events, you must," Yoda said wistfully. "But be ware of the possible future, you must be." His light green eyes bored into Anakin's blue ones. "Very unstable, young Skywalker is."

Obi-Wan grasped the fountain's edge tighter. A few stones broke apart from it and fell to the floor. Obi-Wan picked them up.

"I must kill Palpatine," he said evenly, pulverising the stones with his mechanical hand.

Yoda cast him a concerned glance. "Too weak for Sidious, you are."

Obi-Wan stretched his face into a cold, mirthless smile. "I am in the Chosen One's body. I'm stronger than Master Kenobi."

Yoda stared at him long and intense. "May the Force be with you, Master Kenobi," he said at last. Glancing at Obi-Wan for one last time, he walked away, leaning on his gimmer stick heavily, looking as though his nine hundred standard years had finally managed to defeat him.

* * *

The sun was slowly rising over Coruscant, and the first cool morning breeze stroke gently Obi-Wan's cheek as he walked to the Senate building. The sky was pale blue—a colour so pure that it seemed unnatural, with no single cloud covering it. His golden blonde hair was a gauzed curtain before his eyes as he entered the building.

The interior seemed very dark and dead after the glorious morning, the tremendous pillars hovering over him, as if threatening to squash him. Shadows loomed in the corners, and the dark red carpet was everywhere as far as the eye could see.

Red, the colour of the Sith, the colour of passion, the colour of blood.

Obi-Wan didn't notice as his legs carried him to Palpatine's office, neither did he notice Palpatine's secretary Sly Moore smile at him and motion him inside. He caught a glimpse of his own blue eyes staring back at him dazedly before the mirror-like door slid apart, and he entered the Chancellor's office.

Palpatine was a dark streak against the golden morning outside of the large window. Darkness was nearly palpable in the bright room, floating like oil in the rays of the false sun, oozing across the thick carpet. This room was its lair, its home, and the core of it contemplated the yet peaceful city only a few feet apart from Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat; the sound came to him as if from underwater. "Chancellor."

Very slowly, Palpatine turned around. His dark eyes gleamed faintly, a smile barely touching his thin lips. "Master Kenobi. How can I help you?"

The deafening sound of Obi-Wan's heartbeat reverberated on the room.

"I-"he began, but then closed his mouth. His legs seemed to melt into the carpet and the darkness stretched its prickly hands to him, immobilising him further. Palpatine waited patiently, his cold smile triumphant and malicious on his unnaturally pale face.

Seconds trudged one after another, and Obi-Wan still hadn't moved, hadn't said anything… His mind was blank. What could he do, what could he say to save his brother? To save Padmé? To save himself?

He couldn't fail them again…

Palpatine took a step closer, tightly wrapped in a cloak of shadows. "I can help you, Master Kenobi," he said quietly. His face was the kind face of an old man, his eyes warm and forgiving. "I can feel your fear, your confusion. So much responsibility has been placed upon your shoulders. It's no wonder that it's breaking you, it could break anyone."

Darkness crawled up Obi-Wan's legs, twisting around his torso, swirling around his mechanical arm. His breath escaped his lips in a strained gasp, the pulse of blood behind his ears deafening him.

Palpatine approached him slowly, cautiously, his compassionate eyes never leaving his face. "The helplessness, the confusion… I can feel them swirling in you. The burden is hard, and there is no one who can help you, no one who understands you."

The Sith Lord was already within an arm's length from Obi-Wan. A bead of sweat trickled with agonising slowness down Obi-Wan's cheek.

Palpatine's eyes—kind and soft—bored deep into Obi-Wan's blue ones. Wisps of shadows curled behind the Sith's back, screaming mutely and extending their intangible arms towards Obi-Wan.

"Not even _he_ knows. He doesn't understand you. He blames you for everything." Palpatine was already so close that Obi-Wan could see his own reflection mirroring in Chancellor's dark eyes—the one of a very young and dazed man with widened blue eyes. "You and I—we can convince Anakin of your rightness, and he will be your friend again. Your friendship will be even stronger… And the power that surges within this body won't leave you when you return to your own."

The sweet echo of Palpatine's words swirling in his foggy head, Obi-Wan watched the Sith reach over for his arm. "Just join me," Palpatine whispered. His spidery fingers touched Obi-Wan's flesh hand.

Palpatine's touch was icy cold. It was a sickening, suffocating coldness, seething with evil. Obi-Wan shuddered involuntarily… and that shudder broke him from his trance.

He could think again clearly; he could see deception and deceit dancing in the puddles of darkness around him. He knew what he came here for.

A very slight smile graced his youthful features, his mechanical arm balled into a fist.

"Never," he said firmly.

Palaptine's eyes narrowed. "So be it," he said slowly. The shadows behind his back darkened, plunging forward to attack.

A sizzling turquoise blade pierced the thick air, and the crimson one countered it.

The shadows dancing in mad joy around the Jedi and the Sith battling each other.

* * *

Life, dept, friendship—everything seemed to have lost its meaning. Anakin streaked through the halls of the Senate building like a wraith, not noticing the blurry faces of confused people staring in disbelief after the always composed and serene Master Kenobi running wildly.

Palpatine—his mentor, his only friend, his uncle—was the Sith Lord! It was impossible… but could Obi-Wan lie to him? Why would Obi-Wan lie to him?

Something was wrong, oh so very wrong here…

He needed the truth. He needed it for Padmé, for their unborn child, for Obi-Wan… None of the people he loved could be safe until he had dug to the core of the mystery. He, the Hero With No Fear, the Chosen One.

Yet as he run towards the Chancellor's office, he didn't feel as one of the mightiest warriors in the Galaxy, he didn't feel strong. He was just a small, shivering boy who didn't know who he was.

The edge of his consciousness cursing the natural slowness of Obi-Wan's old body, Anakin burst through the door, ignoring the secretary's calls to stop, and into the Chancellor's office.

What he saw there was like a kick to his stomach, drawing his breath away.

Obi-Wan and Palpatine were entwined in a ferocious duel.

Palpatine's usually kind eyes were two yellow gleams on his unnaturally pale face. The blade that pierced the air only inches away from Obi-Wan's skin was crimson. But… it couldn't be! It must have been only a trick of light…

Obi-Wan's face was as hard as stone; his always warm blue eyes a cold, frozen substance behind the wild tendrils of golden hair.

The floor rushed to Anakin with breathtaking speed, and he felt first his knees, then his arms collide with it. His breath coming in strange gulps from deep within his suddenly frozen chest, he watched the two opponents strike at each other, parry and attack, move across the room so quickly that they seemed blurry shadows caught in a sizzling red-blue cage.

"Anakin, help me!" Palpatine cried desperately, panting from exhaustion. His eyes weren't yellow anymore. But… how did he find out about the switch?

"No, Anakin, don't listen to him!" Obi-Wan barked, kicking Palpatine square into his chest. Did his own voice always have this… odd edge to it when he cried? Anakin had never noticed, he hadn't known…

Palpatine's frail form staggered a few steps and he fell. The creases on his face were accentuated by the harsh rays of sun, making him look even more old and delicate.

"Anakin," he gasped.

Why did Palpatine have red lightsabre?

Why would Obi-Wan battle Palpatine?

Palpatine couldn't be the Sith Lord the entire Order was searching for…

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan called, staggering backwards from the powerful Force-push from Palpatine.

The old man rose to his feet, and the duel continued, even more ferocious than before. Both opponents called for his help, and Anakin was still undecided.

Suddenly, a white, blinding light exploded in his head. Pain lashed through him—excruciating, unbearable agony as his mind was attacked with images, visions.

_Pelting rain slanting onto the red carpet through the broken window, damping the cut off man's hand still gripping the violet blade… The feeling of nausea like he had never experienced before churning his stomach… 'You shall be called Darth Vader'—the words were thrown into the winnowing wind and carried away, into the dark city. _

_The screams of hundreds dying Jedi deafening him through the Force… Blood everywhere… A child's innocent eyes widening in surprise as the blue blade struck him down… _

_Hundreds volcanoes disgorging lava, the heat, rivers of fire… _

_A searing pain slashing through his limbs, tongues of flames licking at the remains of his body… An unbearable stench of burning flesh… Obi-Wan shouting some indistinct, meaningless words at him, his face contorted into a grimace of pain… Sheer, unadulterated hatred boiling in his broken body…_

_Coldness, emptiness, despair… The claustrophobic feeling from the black suit… _

_And then there was nothing—and there would always be nothing more than nothing…._

Anakin's haunted cry pierced the air, returning him into the present. Wild shakes rippling through his body, he stood up on wobbling legs as awareness began to seep through his veins.

Those images he saw were his memories… Memories from the past that didn't exist anymore.

The man in the black suit he kept dreaming about was him… It was his future, or it would be.

He would kill Padmé in the surreal, horrible nightmare of the future…

Palpatine was the Sith Lord, he had twisted and manipulated him for years.

But Obi-Wan would cripple him, he would leave him dying, he would take his weapon from him. He wouldn't try to save him because he had never loved him.

Yet Obi-Wan would be doing the right thing because Anakin would become a monster, a child murderer, Palpatine's right hand.

Still, Obi-Wan would abandon him, and Palpatine would save his life—but it would be a miserable imitation of life.

Bitter resentment at his former Master burning his throat, Anakin watched the duel, undecided.

Memories and feelings, love and hatred swirled on the inside of his head, making him dizzy. The choice he had to make now would decide his path and the future of those close to him—the burden of responsibility crashed Anakin's shoulders stronger than any physical weight would.

Who should he help? The man who had left him for a terrible and humiliating death, showing no mercy, or the man who would enslave him for the rest of his life?

Making up his mind, Anakin ignited his weapon and rushed to help his friend—the only friend he had ever had.

10


	8. Right and Wrong

**Hey, everyone! I know, I know what you must be thinking--she hadn't up****dated this fic for **_**months**_**, then she gave us a short update with another evil cliffie, and then the author had the decency to disappear again. Burn her... or better, cook her alive. :(**

**I'm so very sorry! I really am. **

**Anyways, here is the next update--it's quite long, but I hope you don't mind **_**much**_**. Many thanks to my amazing beta for proof-reading it! **

**Thank you so much for reading, and enjoy!**

* * *

_Who should he help? The man who had left him for a terrible and humiliating death, showing no mercy, or the man who would enslave him for the rest of his life? _

_Making up his mind, Anakin ignited his weapon and rushed to help his friend—the only friend he had ever had._

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

**Right and Wrong**

A strong Force push sent Obi-Wan flying across the entire room. He crashed into the wall, which shattered from the impact, and slid to the floor in a broken heap. Palpatine was too strong, too skilled and too powerful even for Anakin's body… Obi-Wan didn't stand the chance alone; he needed Anakin's help.

There was a slight shift in the Force—the glowing waters rippled and seethed—but everything became quiet again before Obi-Wan could determine the origin of the disturbance.

Palpatine was already there, his crimson blade sizzling only inches from Obi-Wan's neck, and Obi-Wan rolled across the floor and leapt up. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Anakin collapsing onto the floor, shivers rippling through his body. Was it shock or was it something else that affected him so badly?

Anakin's shell gave Obi-Wan many advantages in the fight—his height, superior physical strength, and a much, much stronger connection to the Force… Yet Anakin's body seemed to move on its own, uncontrollable and wild like its owner, disregarding Obi-Wan's will. This body didn't have the muscle memory of many of Obi-Wan's favourite battle moves, and the mechanical appendage was like a hostile intruder, making the attacks awkward and unskilled.

A tight, nearly claustrophobic feeling stirred in Obi-Wan's chest. He felt trapped in Anakin's body, and suddenly Palpatine's gleaming eyes were laughing at him behind a thick veil of grey smoke. It was hard to breathe, though Anakin's youth kept him going on, his arms growing even stronger, his legs moving even faster… Yet Obi-Wan felt that he was losing.

What was happening to Anakin? Why wasn't he coming to help him?

Palpatine laughed triumphantly. "Either way you lose, Master Kenobi. Order 66 is being executed now—and soon, the Jedi are no more."

The Galaxy turned into a turbulent blur around Obi-Wan, and for a tiny moment he forgot what he was there for.

Order 66… Five letters and two numbers, yet they harboured so much pain, so much suffering. So much death.

He couldn't let it happen. He wouldn't.

A yellow gleam illuminated Palpatine's cold, calm face as his scintillating red blade swung in a graceful arch to Obi-Wan's neck… only to be blocked by a turquoise one.

"So confident are you," a voice said by his left ear—Obi-Wan's own voice. A patch of beige robe framed his vision. "Lead to inevitable fall, too much confidence does."

Palpatine's eyes flared yellow. "Anakin, he is-"

"My friend," Anakin interrupted him, his voice firm.

Palpatine smiled—it was a cold, taut leer, holding more malice than anything else Obi-Wan had ever seen. "So be it."

Once again, Obi-Wan felt himself being lifted off his feet and slammed into the wall. For a moment he was dizzy; his vision was riddled with sneering black circles. The edge of his consciousness perceived Anakin groan next to him.

Palpatine was nowhere in the room.

"Where is he?" Anakin asked. Obi-Wan shrugged, getting up and lending Anakin a helping hand.

"I don't know… He just disappeared."

They came to the window. The Jedi Temple was still as peaceful and magnificent as ever, obscured behind a curtain of traffic and bathed in the golden sunlight. Yet Obi-Wan could sense darkness streaming to it through the Force to devour millenniums of serenity and peace.

"The clones are marching to the Temple now," Anakin said quietly. "The entrance is shut, but it won't hold them off for long. They'll find a way to get in."

Obi-Wan nodded, seeing throngs of faceless troopers march towards the Temple in his mind's eye. _Thud thud thud thud_. Their gait was as monotonous and emotionless, as rhythmic and merciless, as soulless as they were.

Obi-Wan balled his mechanical hand into a tight fist. "We have to get in there, to help somehow."

"They will kill children," Anakin said so softly that Obi-Wan strained to hear him. "Children… "

Obi-Wan cast a surreptitious glance at his brother. Anakin's face was a hard, stone mask, yet the emotions he sent through the Force were raw and unadulterated, of such overwhelming intensity that it was a miracle that he could stand still at all.

Obi-Wan put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "But you'll be there to protect them."

A powerful shudder rippled through Anakin's body, making Obi-Wan's arm shake violently. The Force exploded from the power of his emotion.

"Obi-Wan, I think you should go alone in there."

Obi-Wan struggled to maintain calmness in his voice as he asked, "Why?"

"As much as I hate to admit it, the Jedi can't handle it alone. We need our friends' help to evacuate as many as we can—and I'm going to ask for that help."

The words sounded sincere, but a dark glint in Anakin's grey eyes told Obi-Wan that there was more to his tale. There was something that Anakin was hiding from him, yet Obi-Wan didn't feel angry or betrayed. When the time was right, Anakin would tell him.

"All right. But please, do hurry up."

Anakin feigned a cocky smile. "Oh, Master, I don't think that I'll be much of assistance to you in that fossil body of yours. Besides, I still have so much to learn."

Obi-Wan frowned. "Yours won't be as good in sixteen years."

Anakin raised his eyebrows, heading towards the exit. "No, it won't. It will be better."

Obi-Wan grumbled inwardly, coming to the elevator and pushing the call button. The silvery doors opened before him.

Anakin lingered in the hall, a slight smile on his lips. "May the Force be with you, Master."

Obi-Wan smiled back. "And with you, too. I'll be waiting for you."

And then the doors slid shut between them.

Yet the last glimpse of Anakin he caught wasn't the smile-lit face of only seconds ago—it was a bitter mask of pain and anguish. Something was very wrong with Anakin… and the horrible feeling at the pit of his stomach told Obi-Wan that it was his fault.

* * *

The speeder landed on the landing platform of Padmé's apartment with a familiar, soothing purring of engines. Anakin pulled back the lid, and a gentle gust of wind fluttered into the cockpit. Somehow, it seemed that the very air on Padmé's veranda was different, better than in any other place he had ever been to. It was as if her mere presence was merged into it, making it so much more than a complex mixture of gas molecules. It was cleaner, warmer, comforting… 

Comforting the man who would kill her.

A loud shriek pulled him back into the present.

"Ani!" Padmé ran to him with a huge smile on her face, her skirts fluttering behind her. He climbed out the cockpit to embrace her, and she rested her head against his chest.

Anakin inhaled the flowery scent of her hair, hugging her tightly so as to never let her go again. Their last meeting was only yesterday, yet it seemed like a lifetime ago.

Memories, bitter and burning, swirled on the inside of his head, one more horrible than another. Things he would do, lives he would take—everything turned into a sneering, spinning blur, accompanied by a horrifying sound of a mechanical breathing that would be his. It was hard to believe that those memories would come to life only in a matter of days had the switch not occurred, had the rift through time not happened…

All of this would happen only because he had been blinded by love, by passion, by his own ambitions.

"Ani, what's wrong?" Padmé asked anxiously, rubbing his back.

Anakin couldn't respond. She didn't know of the possible future—he would make sure she didn't find out about it—so she had no idea what this moment meant to him, and it did so much more to him than it did to her. His last memory was cold bitterness of the Man in the Mask, the man who had lost everything and everyone… because he had listened to the sweet talks of a snake, because he had let himself be twisted and seduced by it. Oh, how very foolish he had been…

"Nothing is wrong," he breathed into her hair, holding her even tighter. He wanted to stay like that forever.

"_You're alive, our children are still alive. Nothing has happened yet,"_ he wanted to say, but he didn't. He wouldn't. Would she still love him if she found out what he were capable of? What horrible fate both of them had narrowly escaped?

"I can sense it. Something's bothering you." Very gently, Padmé pulled apart and stared into his face, concern burning within her brown eyes.

Anakin wished that it had been his own face his wife would look upon, not the face of his brother, mentor and… killer. It was painful to think about Obi-Wan, of the vicious duel midst the rivers of lava and blazing heat. As disgusted as he was by the creature he would become, a part of him longed to seek vengeance at Obi-Wan for crippling him and leaving him to die a terrible death… That thought was like an icy knife cutting through his stomach.

"There is something," he said slowly, tracing the contours of her cheek with his finger. "The Jedi need your help."

Padmé arched her perfect brow in confusion. "I… don't understand."

Anakin pursed his lips. "The Sith Lord I've told you about has executed Order 66 that should eliminate the entire Jedi Order. Battalions of the clone troopers are heading to the Temple now." He sighed. "As much as I hate to pull you into this, we need help to evacuate as many as we can. Especially… especially children." His voice sounded as if something was choking him.

Padmé's face was one of those political masks he hated—calm, composed and emotionless. Perhaps, she was in too much of shock to take the news properly.

"Of… of course," she said, glancing at the Temple in the distance. It looked quiet and untouched, yet Anakin could already hear the mourning of the Force and believed to see a faceless Jedi fall gracefully to the ground, struck by the blaster fire.

"Do you know who that Sith Lord is?"

Anakin felt his lips curl up in a hard, bitter sneer. "Palpatine," he nearly spat through his teeth.

Padmé's eyes widened for a fraction of second, and she paled. "Well, that makes sense," she nearly whispered.

He leaned down and gave her a brief kiss. "Be careful," he whispered. Her mask broke, and her eyes were reeling with myriads of emotions again—fear, concern, love and many others he couldn't name.

"You be careful too," her words lingered in the air as Anakin had already ran to his speeder.

He could feel her eyes on him until his vehicle was swallowed by the tight traffic.

* * *

Witnessing the dying echo of the Jedi massacre had been bad enough. Running through the smoke-covered halls, feeling the cold touch of death seething through the air was much, much worse than Obi-Wan had ever imagined it would be, and Anakin's strong connection to the Force made everything even more vivid, more real. 

The lament of the Force was a soft music of terrible beauty, flowing through the Temple—every dust particle, every shattered stone, every pillar. It channelled through Anakin's body—its offspring in flesh and blood—pleading him to do something, to prevent that evil from happening.

A faceless clone, blurry in the smoke, fired at him. Without thinking, Obi-Wan deflected the green bolts with a couple of swift movements, and the clone fell gracelessly, stumbling over a young girl's body. Her glassy eyes were wide open, surprise forever burned into her blank stare. A painful lump clambering up his throat, Obi-Wan closed her eyes and brushed a loose tendril of light hair off her still warm face.

Smoke, fire, blaster crackling, mute screams of the dying ones… It was like a scene from a nightmare, only that the Jedi didn't have nightmares. Jedi were never wallowing in what ifs, the Jedi never escaped from the harshness of the reality, they never tried to imagine that everything was just a bad dream—nothing more. But as he was running through the once beautiful halls, striking countless troopers without thinking, without looking, Obi-Wan was trying to do exactly that—to find a single evidence that nothing happening here was real.

He arrived at the door before the Council's chamber. There were no clones here yet. The massacre was just a strident, sickening noise in the background, and the distant beams of blaster fire looked even beautiful through the screen of smoke.

The door slid aside before him, and Obi-Wan entered the room. He could still feel the now faint traces of wisdom and serenity that had dwelled in those chambers for hundreds of years… but the thick, suffocating darkness was a dominating presence, clouding everything else. Except for the blind, naked terror of dozens of innocent children.

A little boy stepped forward, trembling with fear.

"Master Skywalker, what are we going to do? There are too many of them."

Obi-Wan clenched his right fist—a complex set of wires and devices, the fist he had seen killing that young boy on a security holo.

Feigning a smile, he squatted down before the child. "Don't worry, everything is going to be all right. I'll lead you out of here."

Another girl emerged from her hiding place, her face pale with consternation. "But… they are _everywhere_."

Obi-Wan stifled a sigh. "We can't stay here," he said simply. "Trust me—help is coming."

* * *

The sickening stench of death was everywhere. With the nauseating squelching of blood under his feet and a heavy drumming in his ears, Anakin streaked through the once magnificent halls of the Temple. He tried not to look, but he could still see an elder Twile'ek Jedi being struck in the back by a faceless clone. He tried not to listen, yet the quiet moans of a Padawan boy writhing on the floor in agony seemed to penetrate into his very soul. And there were clones everywhere… He didn't remember them being so many. 

He had been on their side in the other… reality. What was worse—being the hunter or the hunted? Mercilessly eliminating the whole Order or witnessing it being erased?

A young Padawan girl was surrounded by three clones. She turned and leapt, dodging and deflecting the fire, but her technique had yet too many flaws, she was too slow, too clumsy. And she would never improve herself.

With a couple of quick slashes, Anakin cut through the clones and they fell, their white masks—almost exact replicas of Vader's black helmet—staring at him in opaque surprise. Without looking at the saved girl, Anakin hurried on, because there was another one… and another Padawan boy twirling gracefully behind the wall of fire.

There were so many beings that needed his help, but the cold void in his chest whispered to him that he couldn't save them all.

Obi-Wan's voice echoed in the back of his mind with a blinding flash. His Master needed him…

Following the call of the Force, Anakin run to Obi-Wan, dodging and deflecting the fire, taking as many clones as he could on the way. It was hot, and he thought he would choke from the nauseating stench of blood and smoke… there was too much smoke and fire. His vision was getting blurry; the flames looked like beautiful orange flowers, and the clones were just white smears in the grey background. He cursed Obi-Wan's old eyes.

Obi-Wan.

If Obi-Wan had shown better his love for him, would Anakin have befriended Palpatine? Would he have been seduced by that old snake had he been sure of his Master's love for him? He would have never become the Man in the Mask—a pitiful broken creature, full of hatred.

The wave of blazing heat hit his face painfully as Anakin run up the staircase leading up the Council's chamber. There was fire everywhere—the Temple was burning, but stone alone wasn't enough for the tongues of flames. There was a heavy, sickening stench of burning flesh in the air. Squinting from the heat, Anakin believed to distinguish an alien Jedi charring slowly, his still activated lightsaber humming mournfully in his hand.

Anakin hated fire.

It reminded him of Mustafar, of the duel, of his injuries. However… had Obi-Wan not shown up on Mustafar, there would have been no duel. Vader wouldn't have been a powerless cripple… Perhaps, he would have kept more of Anakin in him had he not been imprisoned into the suit. Perhaps, he would have been less dark and more human.

Or it could be that Padmé would have brought him back there. She had still loved him, he could see it in her eyes. Maybe, only maybe, her love would have made him realise his mistakes, his wrongs. Because before the duel, Vader hadn't been born wholly. Not yet.

But there was no way of knowing how the things would have gone… Ever.

Obi-Wan had taken care of that. He had done the right thing, he had fulfilled his Jedi duty… but he hadn't thought that not everything could be neatly divided into black and white. He hadn't thought that maybe deep down, Vader had wanted to be Anakin again.

Obi-Wan hadn't thought about that because it would have made things more complicated for him.

Anakin raced past the now empty Council chambers and further, to the Room of the Thousand Fountains. Obi-Wan and the children were close now—he could sense them in the Force.

Conflicted emotions battled within him. Horror at what he would become, love for Padmé and Obi-Wan… and there was also a part of him that lusted for revenge. That unadulterated, almost animal need couldn't be obliterated, couldn't be drowned. It gnawed at his heart like a worm, disgusting yet incredibly appealing at the same time. His entire being was ashamed at it, yet Anakin secretly craved for retribution.

How would it feel like to show Obi-Wan how wrong the old man had been… To teach him a lesson he would never forget. Anakin was sure that Obi-Wan didn't search for blame, that what he had done to on Mustafar didn't haunt him in the night.

Just one revenge—justified revenge—wouldn't make him to Vader, would it?

* * *

Those clones were fast, deadly and stubborn. Obi-Wan was afraid that he couldn't last against them for much longer. If only he was in his own body… Anakin's body, out of its own accord, tried to perform his kinetic and insane Djem So while Obi-Wan futilely attempted to make it use the serene and much more rational Soreso style. It seemed that Anakin's body was as stubborn and unbearable as its owner. 

A familiar turquoise blade sizzled by his side as if from thin air, and Obi-Wan caught a glimpse of familiar grey eyes smiling at him.

Anakin came to help him.

The team was reunited again, and together, Kenobi and Skywalker always won.

"Always in trouble without me, Master?" Anakin grinned at him when the last trooper fell.

Obi-Wan shrugged. "I coped just fine, Padawan."

There was a cough on his left. Turning around, Obi-Wan saw the children coming from behind a pile of ruins where they had been hiding while he had been battling the clones. Some of them had their eyebrows raised quizzically; the others sniggered at them in a nearly pitying way. Obi-Wan cursed inwardly. From the corner of his eye he saw Anakin blush slightly.

"Do you know a way out …Master?" Obi-Wan asked. His mouth refused to form the last word.

Anakin stroked his beard, and Obi-Wan couldn't help but cringe as he saw dirt on his former Padawan's hands coming in contact with his beard…

"There is a passageway that I believe isn't blocked yet, and help will wait for us there."

Obi-Wan wanted to wipe that smug grin from his face.

"Let's go then."

* * *

They halted before a closed door in a dark, narrow corridor. Anakin had been right so far—the clones hadn't discovered that passage yet. It was safe, although the sickening stench of blood and smoke accompanied them even there. Obi-Wan doubted that it would ever pass even with years coming. 

Anakin typed in the code, and the door slid open before them.

They stepped outside… only to discover dozens of troopers waiting for them, blasters at the ready.

Horrified gasps of children making his stomach twist into a tight, painful knot, Obi-Wan glanced at his left. Anakin was looking at him, his features stretched into a cold, dark smile that was not his own.

13


End file.
